Puppy Love
by ItWritesStuff
Summary: "It's bad enough that she's got a hopelessly love-struck Veela trailing after her to begin with, but it appears that this will be Hermione's most difficult year as the Veela in question had to be a famous one with too many paparazzi on his heels and adoring fangirls to spare." Veela!Viktor/Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It really bothers me that there aren't enough Viktor/Hermione stories on this site. Anyway, I'm not really a fan of Veela/soulmate/marriage law etc. pieces, mostly because it implies that one or both characters don't have a choice in the matter and that just doesn't sit well with me. I like my favourite couple to choose each other, as they kind of originally did in cannon, rather than be convinced that they're meant for each other. That being said, I do find Veela stories _very_ interesting, particularly those with full or half male Veela characters as there's hardly any information on them as far as I know. It just opens doors to so many possibilities! The few stories I've read so far were mostly Draco/Harry, and in those stories the effects of the 'awakened' Veela were mostly dark and disturbing or just something very sexy and steamy, and I usually don't mind that, but I've always been curios about a potential third kind of effect... and, well, here we are!

Although marked 'complete', this story is really on a trial run. I have ideas that I really want to properly develop once I'm finished with What They Don't Teach You at Durmstrang, but these plot bunny bites are not quite as strong as those of WTDTYAD (that and Viktor will be slightly OOC here as a result of his, erm, 'awakening', and I'm not a big fan of OOC characters either) so I could potentially loose interest and keep this a one-shot, but if I that happens I'll definitely post a note or something. I wouldn't want to keep anyone interested waiting for too long!

Anyway, long AN ends here! I hope you enjoy reading this!

* * *

"Male half-Veela are very rare," said Fleur one afternoon when Hermione cornered her and managed to pry her off Cedric's arm. "I only know one, but I have a cousin who had them as lovers. They are worse than the females."

Wonderful.

Fleur shuddered visibly. "They are different, of course, as am I and my sister and my other cousins, but most of them are very aggressive, jealous, and especially possessive of their mates."

Fantastic.

She placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder, her beautiful face contorting into that of concern and sympathy. "Please, be careful."

Right.

"How do I get out of it?" she asked, practically pleading, still a tiny bit hopeful.

"I don't know," said Fleur. "I am so sorry, but I really don't know. Even full female Veela, they don't have this mating thing. They meet and fall in love like we do, but I think it's different with male Veela."

"But there is no such thing as a full-blooded male Veela!" Hermione insisted.

Fleur shrugged. "Veela must come from _somewhere_ , no? Maybe there used to be but aren't anymore."

"Well where would they have gone, if they even existed in the first place?"

Fleur paused. "Have you heard of this one myth? Of course it's not true but it's still very popular, basically says that Veela can die from a broken heart. Maybe it _was_ true, but for the males. Maybe that's why there aren't any full-blooded male Veela anymore."

And that was precisely why she couldn't just march up to him and tell him that it will never, _ever_ happen. She wasn't one for myth and superstition, but she also didn't want to have blood on her hands.

"Just tell him to sod off already!" said Ron, glaring over his shoulder at the looming figure a few shelves behind them.

"You know I can't!" she moaned, grabbing more books as they walked, trying her hardest to ignore the odd sensation of something dark and sinister hovering above her. "Oh, there has to be something!"

"You heard Fleur, Hermione," said Harry, also glancing warily over his shoulder, his own arms struggling to carry the many books Hermione picked. "There's nothing on… you know. If _she_ can't tell you anything then I really don't think books will help."

She rounded on him fast, the loose knot at the back of her head nearly unfurling from the force to set free her wild mane. "Well then what do you suggest I do, _accept it_?" she asked shrilly. Her eyes flickered over his head and her face blanched. "Oh no, where is he?"

He was like a shark in open waters. If you see him, it's bad. If you can't see him, it's worse.

She nearly jumped into Harry at the sound of him clearing his throat behind her. She turned around and saw him standing there offering her a fairly new, reasonably thick book. He didn't say anything, and didn't do much besides gently push the book at her, but she still felt her friends tensing behind her and for a split second she wondered why. His normally surly face was inviting, his black eyes warm and his smile friendly.

She shook her head. _Of course_ he wouldn't look his usual grumpy self when he's looking at her, his supposed _mate._

She quickly averted her eyes. She grabbed the book from his hand, muttered a quick thank you and dashed around him. Harry and Ron soon followed suit.

"He just _hissed_ at me!" said Ron to Harry once they were out of the library, his eyes the size of saucers and his face paler than usual, his arms also carrying some of Hermione's thick volumes. "Did you hear that? Bloody _Viktor Krum_ just _hissed_ at me!"

"Don't say his name!" hissed Hermione, anxiously glancing over her shoulders, as if afraid that he'll appear out of thin air the moment his name is said out loud. "Let's just hurry up and go to common room!"

She now spends most of her time in the Gryffindor common room. It's the one place he can't reach her. She really hates it because its not exactly an ideal study environment, but she'd rather take all her fellow Gryffindor peers' constant teasing and the twins' suggestive comments and the jealous fangirls' murderous glares than one more Krum sighting.

Sometimes she thinks she's blowing things out of proportion. He hasn't really done anything inappropriate or threatening enough to warrant fear and aversion, except maybe when they first met at the Quidditch World Cup when he swooped into their box halfway through the match and professed his undying love for her for all the cameras and journalists and the _entire world_ to see.

Other times she thinks she's got every damn right to blow everything out of proportion. In fact she's certain that she would've still been dominating headlines if Harry hadn't been selected for the Triwizard Tournament against all odds, and of the four years she's known the Boy Who Lives she's never truly felt as close to him as she does now.

It's bad enough that she's got a hopelessly love-struck Veela trailing after her to begin with, but it appears that this will be Hermione's most difficult year as the Veela in question had to be a famous one with too many paparazzi on his heels and adoring fangirls to spare.

Her best friend's life is also in danger, but that's just the cherry on top and the year had only just begun!

Why oh _why_ did he have to be international Quidditch sensation Viktor Krum, and _why_ did he have to be Durmstrang Institute's Triwizard candidate _and_ champion? Couldn't her Veela mate have been an average Joe that didn't have any chance of setting foot in Hogwarts?

Harry was right. The books were useless. She had spent hours pouring into them, hardly eating or sleeping or doing any school-related work, and she found nothing on male Veela. She was about to call it a night when her eyes landed on the book Viktor had given her. She hadn't bothered checking the title when she first took it from him, eager as she had been to get away from him, but now that she's finally looked at it she wondered why he gave it to her in the first place.

" _Veela: Myths, Legends, and Facts,_ " she read in a whisper to avoid waking her snoozing roommates. "By T. J. Scamander."

She hadn't heard of the book, and it came as a shock to her because a name such as Scamander is quite big in the wizarding world and would no doubt attract a lot of press coverage. It also looked fairly new, but definitely used judging from the tattered edges and the few creases on the corner of the pages that have been previously dog-eared. She searched the first few pages for the list of students that have borrowed it in the past, or at least a stamp of the school's crest, but she found that there was nothing in the book the author hadn't intended for there to be.

A thought occurred to her. Was the book his? If so, why had he thought of bringing it with him? Did he know she'd need it, or was he trying to tell her something? He could always simply tell her himself, of course, though to be fair she did go into hysterics when he first approached her and she might've even threatened him with a few jinxes… her memory was a little foggy from the initial shock but she's sure her reaction wasn't pretty, or at least that's what the papers said.

The common room had gotten too noisy, too stuffy. Enough was enough, she decided. She needed to get on top of her schoolwork again and she was missing her sanctuary that was the library. Besides, she's Hermione Jean Granger! She's been friends with Harry Potter for four years, she's seen and experienced worse things than an infatuated Veela. She's better than this, she knows, and she'll be damned if she lets some ridiculous mythical bond cause her grades to plummet.

She decided to go to the library to get some work done. If Viktor Krum wants to watch her, let him, but she'll be sure to give him a few things to be sorry for if he so much breathes her way.

She managed to keep her resolve for quite sometime, or at least until he sat on the table across from hers and leaned his chin on his crossed arms on the table to gaze adoringly up at her.

 _If I so much as hear a single dreamy sigh I'm throwing a book at him,_ she vowed silently, her grip on the book she was trying to read turning her knuckles white. _Aren't Veela supposed to be insanely beautiful, anyway?_

Fleur definitely fits the bill. She's beautiful, graceful, alluring, and charming, if not a little conceited at times. No one had known Viktor was half-Veela until his stunt at the World Cup, or at least his teammates and his coach knew but were loyal enough to cover for him when they really didn't need to. Viktor looked and acted like _anything_ but a Veela.

Until Viktor practically announced his heritage to the world, Hermione was struggling to understand his appeal to the girls that ogled at him whilst being least interested in Quidditch. He wasn't exactly hideous to look at, but he wasn't conventionally handsome either. He was awfully skinny, for starters, and round-shouldered and duck-footed and very awkward without his broom, and before he started smiling at Hermione he appeared to have a sulky, bored expression permanently etched on his face. His bushy eyebrows were constantly drawn close to his black eyes, and his large hooked nose and sallow skin did nothing to negate the image of a humanoid bird of prey.

Except now that he has apparently found his mate he's starting to resemble an overly attached puppy. It's an improvement, she thinks, because she rather loves puppies and would've gotten one years ago if they weren't so slobbery and messy and needy.

She chanced to look at him when she heard a fan approach him and engage him in a Quidditch-related conversation that forcefully diverted his attention from her. She noted his sharp profile, visible still despite him slouching lazily on the chair, and high, sharp cheekbones caressed by dark, shaggy hair. She knows that he's extremely tall, taller than even Ron whom she thought no one could possibly surpass height-wise, and that he's got a really deep voice the few times she heard him speak. His thick accent sometimes made it hard for people to understand him, especially when he's talking really fast, but it still sounded really nice when combined with passion igniting a fire in his otherwise dark, cold eyes.

His fan was still chattering endlessly by his side, making it impossible for him to edge his way out of the conversation without being rude. Hermione took this opportunity to study him more closely, but there wasn't much to study considering that he was covered waist down by a table and chairs.

 _Nothing to see there, anyway,_ she thought, stubbornly fighting down a blush as well as images of things she _definitely_ doesn't need to think about at this age.

She focused on his arms instead, and initially thought that they were definitely too long, but upon closer inspection they appeared strong and she liked to think that they'd probably feel nice and snug wrapped fully around her. His hands were also definitely too large, and the one time he very briefly held hers they felt dry and calloused, but they were also warm as they easily covered her tiny hands. The lips that brushed over them were surprisingly soft, as were his eyes pleading and sincere and shocked as they stared back at her now from across the room–

His fan was nowhere in sight. He was staring back at her as if he's just realized something, or seen something he hasn't expected to see, and slowly the corners of his mouth curved upwards as the blood rushed furiously to her cheeks.

She abandoned her belongings and scrambled out of her chair to make a quick dash out of the library. She's afraid all of a sudden. She feels like she's done something she really shouldn't have done, that she's somehow made things worse, and her eyes were starting to sting and she hates herself for not thinking this through. She could've at least thought of dragging Ron or Harry or even Ginny with her.

"Wait, Hermy-own," she heard him call after her, leaping out of his own chair and hitting his knee on the table's leg in the process. He swore in Bulgarian but continued limping after her, now extremely desperate. "Please, I am sorry! Hermy-own, I am sorry!"

He somehow managed to catch up with her and block her path.

"Leave me alone!" She cried, then faltered, remembering Fleur's words. She wiped furiously at the angry tears that spilled over her eyes and ignored his own pained expression. "Please, I'm just… I'm trying to understand, I don't want– I'm not–"

She made a frustrated sound. How was she supposed to tell him that she doesn't want any of this without potentially killing him? How was she supposed to convince him that it's forced and wrong and she's too young and not nearly ready to be merely thinking about these things when it's something he's probably been anticipating?

"Read the book," he said, seemingly struggling with himself. "Is very important, will help you understand. I want to say things but you are afraid, but you love reading so… read book. Please, Hermy-own."

She looked down at the hand holding _Veela: Myths, legends, and facts_ that he must've grabbed from her desk on his rush to catch her. She felt her guilt taking over her fear, and over what exactly she wasn't sure, but she reckons it's got to do with his pleading eyes or desperate voice as he struggled to convey his thoughts in a language too foreign and heavy on his tongue, so she nodded and tentatively took the book from his hands when he offered it to her again.

"Thank you," he said, releasing a breath of relief. "Thank you, Hermy-own."

"It's Hermione," she said automatically.

"What?"

She blushed, then silently chided herself. What does it matter if he says her name right when she'd trying to get rid of him?! Then again it's always been a pet peeve of hers when people mispronounced her name…

She took a deep breath, hugging the book to her chest. "You're saying it wrong. It's HER-MY-OH-KNEE, not HERMY-OWN."

"Hermy-own-ninny."

"No, Viktor, HER-MY-OH-KNEE."

She was surprised to find a blush tinge his cheeks, and then groaned inwardly when it was joined by glazed eyes and that infuriating dreamy smile of his. "You say my name nicely."

"I forgot my things," she grumbled, turning around and rushing back towards her desk. She heard him catching up with her. "Don't follow me!" she sputtered, turning bright red when she saw heads turning to look at them.

"Teach me to say your name nicely, Hermy-own-ninny," he said, grinning.

"I will not!" she said stubbornly, purposely putting the chair between them as she shoveled her books and parchments back into her bag.

"Ok, teach me English."

"Your English is perfect."

It was terrible.

"You teach me English and I will teach you something," he offered quickly as she shoved the last book into her back and hoisted it over her shoulder.

She hesitated, now curios. "What will you teach me?"

He paused, having clearly not expected her to ask. "I will teach Hermy-own-ninny… how to love?"

She glared at him, knowing that he had turned her cheeks crimson with that. "Bye, Viktor."

She walked past him. He followed her. "What do you want? I will give you everything!"

"Definitely not a puppy," she muttered under her breath.

"Ok, I will get you puppy."

"No, I don't want one!" she said, quickly and loud enough to turn several more heads towards them. She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the exist when she heard a few sniggers, pretending that she didn't hear their owners' snide remarks _or_ his sharp intake of breath.

Goodness, he was like the melodramatic male lead of a soap opera! Never mind that she used to secretly like some of them, of which one influenced her rather embarrassing and misplaced crush on Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Alright, how about this," she said once they were out. "If you learn to say my name right on your own, I'll… I'll take you to Hogsmeade."

It was a dangerous risk, but she was desperate for peace and confident that he wouldn't learn to say her name right in time, because surely he's got his own school assignments and probably Quidditch practice to focus on besides the tournament. Even if he does, it'll still give her enough time to think of a way out of this mess.

"Ok, I accept," he said, extending his hand. She hesitated before grasping it with her own. He grinned. "HER-MAY-OH-NINNY."

Her heart sank to her stomach. She could do nothing but stare and gape. He was already getting better.

 _Oh, what did I get myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Officially multi-chaptered! I was going to start working on this after I finish What They Don't Teach You at Durmstrang, but the response was just so overwhelming that I felt compelled to start right away. I have a basic idea of where I want this story to go and how I want it to end, but it's not as thoroughly planned as WTDTYAD so I can't predict its length. It's definitely going to be longer, though, and generally much lighter and more fun as it'll focus mostly on Hermione and Viktor's relationship and Viktor's Veela ancestry (I look forward to this part most!). Anyway, thank you all so much for your love and support and for your patience! I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

She was halfway through a Charms essay when he plopped down on the chair facing hers, his face an indifferent mask as he regarded her with his lean arms crossed over his chest. She slowly lowered her quill to stare haughtily down at him. Three days have passed since their agreement and to her great pleasure she found that his pronunciation only got worse with every try.

"Well?" she said, trying to keep her anticipation at sending him away scowling and flustered perfectly hidden. "Must I remind you of our agreement?"

"No need, I remember," he said. His eyes flickered to her unfinished essay. "You are busy, I will be fast. What time are we going?"

"When you learn to say my name right, Viktor."

His lips curled into a smile and she felt the blood drain from her face.

"You haven't," she whispered, her eyes wide. "You're just trying to scare me."

He placed his elbow on the desk and leaned forward to rest his chin on that hand, his smile turning cheeky at her statement. "And why I want to scare my mate?"

"Stop using that word!" she hissed, more panicked than angry. She then took a deep breath, forcing herself into a calmer state of mind and reminding herself that he's already tried to trick her into teaching him once. "I'm not falling for that again, Viktor. I know you haven't learned to say my name right, so unless if you want to give it another try, I would appreciate it very much if you leave. I have an essay due in a week and I'm awfully behind."

He sighed. She would've thought herself victorious and rejoice had it not been for his oozing confidence making her anxious.

"Ok, I will leave you now," he said, once again on his feet. He stopped just as he was about to disappear behind a bookshelf, as if he just remembered something. He then grinned triumphantly. "Good luck with essay, _Hermione._ "

She barely completed the first draft of her essay by lunchtime. The look on her friends' faces when she found them in the Great Hall told her that they didn't need to be told. They knew, either from the utterly horrified look on her face or from Viktor's uncharacteristically lively demeanor from the Slytherin table on the other side of the hall. She presumed it to be the second, as the champion had been notable sulky and moody in the few days he had tried and failed to pronounce her name.

"Oh, I can't do this!" she said after a few minutes of silence, near tears as she dropped her fork and pushed her plate away.

"Then don't," came Ron's simple answer. For once he wasn't stuffing his face with food, and she would've been flattered had he not turned his glare at her. "So what if he got your name right? I don't see why you should go with him."

"Of course I have to, I promised!"

"So? Just tell him you can't because he's competing against Harry."

"Ron, that wouldn't make any sense! The whole point of this tournament is to form friendships with students from the visiting schools, even if we were to compete against each other!"

"Yea, you'd remember that part," he muttered under his breath, looking away from her to pick at his plate.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I've got an idea!" Ginny announced from her seat next to Hermione, cutting in just in time. "We'll come with you."

Harry perked up from his place next to Ron, happy to prevent a fight from happening. "Yea, Krum never said anything about the two of you being alone. We could meet up there and pretend that it's just a weird coincidence."

"Or we'll just go together," said Ginny. "I mean you didn't expect him to get it right so fast, so you've made plans. I really don't think he'd mind."

"I… I suppose…" said Hermione, chewing her lips nervously as her eyes drifted from the still-sullen Ron to Viktor talking animatedly to a seventh year Slytherin and to one of his Durmstrang peers.

"I could invite more people if you want," suggested Ginny when she caught Hermione's hesitation, giving her a small encouraging smile. "Don't worry, Hermione, it's just one date. We'll be with you and we won't let anything happen."

Hermione smiled back, comforted despite being somewhat weary of the plan. Fleur's words were swimming back in her mind, particularly the ones concerning the male half-Veela's aggressive, possessive tendencies. She wouldn't want her friends to get hurt because of a mess _she_ got herself in.

"We'll stay close but out of sight if he says No," she added.

"Thank you, Ginny," said Hermione, grabbing her friend's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'd like that very much."

He had no problem with her friends accompanying them, much to her surprise. She didn't even need to give him an excuse, he merely nodded and proceeded to walk towards the iron gates.

"So far so good," Ginny commented from her side when they finally caught up with Viktor's long strides.

Hermione glanced behind her shoulders and saw that Ron and Harry were a few paces behind them.

"Brother dearest," explained Ginny with a sigh, rolling her eyes. "He insists that Krum's face morphs every time he looks at him, and that he may or may not have fangs. Honestly, he's just paranoid! I mean Krum is not even full Veela, and everyone knows that only full Veela can transform– and he's just that! Half-Veela, _not_ half-vampire." She snorted. " _Fangs!_ "

Hermione looked at Viktor walking quietly on her other side, knowing for sure that he's heard everything Ginny said, but he seemed too fascinated by the domes and roofs of the few houses they were passing to give his thoughts on the matter.

"Oh, you don't actually _believe_ him, do you?" asked Ginny, a single red eyebrow raised. "Hermione, you know how Ron is."

Normally she would've agreed with the younger Weasley, but she distinctly remembers something about Viktor hissing at Ron. She hasn't actually been witness to it, of course, then again she's never really been a witness to anything but the kind, endearing, if not a little persistent side of him, but it's probably because he wouldn't want to show his mate anything but his very best qualities.

That's what she chooses to believe, anyway.

She shook her head. She made a quick mental note to come up of an alternative to the word 'mate', as she feels even more uncomfortable thinking it than hearing it.

"Viktor…" she started uncertainly, coming to a halt in front of Honeydukes when she felt the distance between them and Harry and Ron stretching.

There was something far too innocent in the way Viktor was looking inquisitively back at her, so innocent that it was practically devious. She couldn't help but narrow her eyes and cross her arms over her chest, very much ready to scold him for being rude to her friends but coming up short. She didn't exactly have proof, besides Ron's word…

Ginny was quick to her aid. "Show us a smile, Vik!" she said with sudden cheer, pointing at her own large grin. "The biggest smile you've got, like this!"

He complied, displaying rows of perfectly straight _human_ teeth. They were a little too white, but that was the only unnatural thing about them, which Hermione assumed to be some kind of a prerequisite that all celebrities must check off at some point. They weren't sharper than they ought to be and it didn't look like he had more than thirty-two.

"Nice," said Ginny approvingly, very openly examining his teeth and not even bothering to hide it. "You know I always thought you'd have more crooked or missing teeth from all the Bludgers you take."

"Thank you," he said, looking pleased with her compliment. His eyes then shifted to Hermione, eager and hopeful.

Feeling awkward and a tiny bit guilty, she turned away from him and was relieved to see that Harry and Ron had finally caught up with them. "Good, you're here! Shall we go in?"

Once indoors Viktor had all but forgotten about Hermione's dismissal of his otherwise perfect teeth. He was as taken by the shop as all thirteen year old students on their first visit, rushing around each counter to try the free samples and then proceeding to grab the small bags or boxes from the shelves and putting them in his basket, which was nearly full by the time he got through half of the shop. Hermione couldn't help but smile a little at his childish glee, and at the same time wonder how he managed to keep his teeth so white and cavity-free whilst clearly having a really bad sweet tooth.

Then he started following her again.

"Hermione, let me buy this for you!" he said eagerly, either overwhelmed by the prospect of purchasing sweets for her or by all the sugar he's consumed.

"I don't want it!" she said, quickly returning the box of Exploding Bonbons she was examining.

He pouted, then grabbed the box she returned to examine it himself, apparently having missed it in his rounds. He shrugged and tossed it in his now full basket.

He repeated the procedure with every single item she touched. She tried to slip away from him as much as she could, but he always seemed to find her in the cluster of customers and brave fans that stopped him for autographs, almost begging her to let him buy her something and getting nothing short of a refusal stemming from speedily thinning patience.

She left the shop in a huff, having not bought anything to keep Viktor from paying for everything. Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Viktor followed her soon afterwards, the last approaching her with a very happy grin. It took her a moment to notice the second bag in his hand.

"No, absolutely not!" she said, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest when he pushed the bag at her. "Viktor, I refuse!"

Again she felt guilty at his crestfallen face, but she pushed it down and forced herself to look away. He was very obviously trying to woo her, apparently unhindered by her friends' presence. She was nowhere near understanding the whole Veela-mate ordeal, but in the meantime she wasn't going to help him succeed.

He shoved the bag at Ron's chest. "Go be busy," he grumbled.

Ron looked like he was torn between accepting the very big, very full bag of sweets or shoving it right back at him. His own sweet tooth seemed to have won in the end, but not so much as to spare Viktor's back a vicious glare.

"He's alright, you know," said Harry when he caught her staring at Viktor from the distance, examining several English learning books from the language section at Tomes and Scrolls.

He hadn't followed her the entire time they were in. In fact he was quick to excuse himself from the group as soon as they got inside, and at first Hermione was thankful for the peace and space she was afraid he wouldn't give her in one of her most favorite places in the entire village, but then she started to worry when she got through her list without so much as a creak from his side. She started looking for him, continuously reminding herself that it's only to prevent a guest of their school from getting lost or into trouble, and her heart clenched when she found him comparing several language books he had picked. He was so focused in his task that he failed to notice her watching him.

A part of her, the part that wasn't guilt-driven in its quest to make her loath herself, was wondering if he'd still put in this much effort if she weren't his mate. She also wondered if _she_ herself would've responded better had the circumstances been different, had he approached her because he _wanted_ to, not because of some ancient Veela magic no one truly understood.

She sighed and turned away from the sight and towards the check-in counter to pay for her items. "I know. He can be awfully kind and sweet when he's not being his usual overbearing self."

Harry hesitated, waiting for her to place her items on the counter and ring the bell before speaking. "Hermione, have you maybe… considered giving it a try?"

"Harry!"

"I'm just saying!" he said, quickly holding up his hands in submission. "He seems alright. He hasn't really done anything he's not supposed to, and he's trying really hard to impress you. I'm obviously not saying you should be with him, just… give him a chance, maybe?"

"Maybe I would under normal circumstances," she admitted at length, ringing the bell again when she realized that the salesclerk didn't show up. "But for him it's different, Harry. I'm not just a girl he's interested in, I'm his… his _mate._ " She cringed at the word, once again reminding herself to find an alternative. "He doesn't know anything about me, and yet he's already convinced that we're meant to be. Oh, can't you see, Harry? It's unnatural! It's more like a curse if you think about it. Neither of us had a say in the matter, and I know its not his fault, but I can't just give up and let some strange unnatural bond control my life."

Harry opened his mouth to either agree with her or to argue some more, but was cut off by the appearance of the aging salesclerk.

"Miss Granger, what a lovely surprise!" he said, smiling warmly at Hermione. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'll just have these, thank you," she said, then hesitated as he nodded and gathered her items to begin wrapping them. "Actually… would you happen to have anything by T. J. Scamander?"

The clerk paused to look up at her, frowning slightly. "Surely you mean Newt Scamander, Miss Granger?"

"Oh no, I've already read all of Newt Scamander's work. I'm looking for T. J. Scamander."

"Are you quite sure, Miss Granger?"

She exchanged looks with an equally confused Harry. "Is he perhaps unknown?"

The old wizard scoffed before resuming his work of wrapping Hermione's ink bottles and scrolls. "He's most certainly known, just not in the same light as his father."

"How come?"

"Oh, it started out nice and well for him, followed the same path as his father and made himself a decent career as a Magizoologist until… well, until he decided to _specialize._ That's expected of most Magizoologist, of course, if one were to assume that they'd stick to their field and specialize in _beasts._ "

"He didn't choose to specialize, then?" asked Harry, intrigued.

"Oh, he did choose!" replied the salesclerk, laughing once. "Of course he's already been discredited years ago by every decent establishment, and he more or less lost the right to call himself a Magizoologist, not that he really cares as a self-styled _Veela specialist._ " He sighed and shook his head, having finally finished wrapping Hermione's items and stacking them in a paper bag. "To be honest I have no idea how he managed to stay a live all these years, what with the many angry and highly offended Veela threatening to scorch him should they set eyes on him."

"But why would they be offended, sir?" asked Harry. Hermione was about to reply when the salesclerk laughed again.

"Why who _wouldn't_ , my dear boy? Veela are classified as Beings, meaning they have sufficient intelligence to understand wizarding law and act accordingly, as are wizards and muggles and vampires, for instance. I myself wouldn't fancy anyone examining me as they would a beast. There are ways, of course, if one is truly interested, however Scamander's manner is a very arrogant, condescending one. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry slowly nodded, understanding dawning on his features.

The revelation only further confused Hermione. Why would Viktor insist she'd read a book written by not only a discredited and ostracized Magizoologist, but by one that looks at Veela as he would a creature of primitive intelligence? More than anything she was upset that he carried that book around in the first place with no shame whatsoever, and that she had even considered finding a solution in it. People like T. J. Scamander were the reason there's still tension between wizards and most magical beings, and Hermione has always prided herself in being nothing like those conceited, narrow-minded wizards.

She was fishing out the coins from her purse when she heard a light thud next to her. She turned and saw that Viktor had apparently decided to get all three books and was about to pay for them when he noticed that he had missed the opportunity of paying for her items. She felt so proud of the small victory that she made quite an unnecessary show of paying for her items and sweeping them off the counter, smirking as Viktor narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line.

"And what can I do for you, young man?" said the salesclerk kindly when he noticed Viktor standing.

Viktor looked between the old man, Hermione's purchased items, and his own selected books on the counter. He seemed to have reached another decision.

"I would like to buy this establishment," he announced, looking tall and regal all of a sudden.

"I beg your pardon?" the salesclerk stuttered, his smile dropping instantly to Hermione's horror.

"I would like to buy this establishment," he repeated, then turning to Hermione he said: "you like this place, yes? I will buy it for you."

" _No you will not_!" she nearly shrieked, blushing scarlet in her mortification as she apologized profusely to the befuddled salesclerk before shoving Viktor with all her might as far away from the counter and through the door. "Stay _here."_ She commanded, giving him a stern look before storming back into the shop, passing by Ginny and Ron on their way out and ignoring their calls as she grabbed her bag from the counter and apologized once again to the salesclerk.

"Your friend's books, Miss Granger!" he called just as she was about to leave again. "Does he still want them?"

She hesitated, one hand hovering over the door handle as the other clutched her bag. The image of him flipping through books by the language learning section came to her mind again. "Alright, I'll pay for them." She said with a sigh, turning back towards the counter.

She found him missing from his assigned spot when she left Tomes and Scrolls.

"Where is he?" she asked her three friends standing mute close by, whirling on her spot to find him peering into the window of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. "Oh for goodness' sake!" she shoved her bag and Viktor's at Ron before sprinting towards him.

He was staring intensely at a couple seated right next to the window. They were kissing passionately and were completely unaware of his rather intruding presence from the other side. He raised a fist and rapped his knuckles on the glass, making it shudder slightly and prompting the couple to swiftly scramble away from each other, both breathing hard and staring wide-eyed at Viktor looking back at them with his usual surly expression. They looked at a complete loss until Viktor's mouth stretched into a wide grin. He waved at them, and after exchanging looks, they very slowly waved back.

Hermione grabbed his arm and quickly pulled him away from the window, mouthing her apologies at the still-bewildered couple.

"Can we go there?" he asked, staring over his shoulder at the shop she forced him away from.

"Absolutely not!" she said, tightening her hold on his arm and pulling him further away. She would die a thousand times over than go into Hogsmeade's infamous couple's retreat with none other than Viktor. Simply being there said too much, and they've already had enough said about them by the _Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ and every other wizarding publication in Britain _._

"Why not?" he asked, looking dejected again.

She glared at him. Was he hoping they'd end up like the couple he was so rudely spying on? She quickly averted her eyes when she felt the heat rise to her face at the image that thought conjured in her head.

"Because," she started, burying her face in her thick wooly scarf when she saw him tilting his head to try to peer at her, "it's almost suppertime. We mustn't be late."

Suppertime wasn't for another three or four hours.

"Ok, we'll go next time," he said, staring ahead with a large smile.

"There won't be a next time!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" she trailed off, cursing herself for slipping. "Because… the first task. You need to dedicate your free time for that, seeing as you've been too busy trying to learn my name."

He shrugged. "It was worth it. I am having much fun today."

She looked up at him, slowly coming to a stop as she felt something similar to when she saw him browsing the language shelves in Tomes and Scrolls. "Really?"

He nodded, smiling warmly at her. "I am with you, Hermione, so I am much happy."

 _But I haven't exactly been pleasant,_ she wanted to say, then thought better of it. He'll likely deny it and that would only make it easier for her guilt to consume her.

It was only when they were past the iron gates of the castle and the many stares and whispers did Hermione realize that her hand was still curled around his arm, and she suddenly understood why he seemed unable to stop smiling since they left the village. She quickly released his arm and stepped around Harry so that he was between them, acting as a human barrier even though Viktor was still tall enough to look over Harry's messy hair and at her curiously, but either way it didn't help much as the whispers only got louder.

It also didn't help that Ron wordlessly stormed off into the Great Hall ahead of them, his face flushed for reasons beyond the cold outside as he purposely took one of the two empty seats between Dean and Parvati. Harry looked between his friends, torn as he always finds himself to be whenever they start fighting, and for once Hermione wanted to be selfish and drag him towards their end of the table.

"Go," she said instead, sounding more angry than reassuring as she glared at Ron's sulking figure. "It's fine, Harry. Just go before he turns on you for breathing around Viktor."

Viktor perked at the sound of his name. Until then he appeared to have been either uncaring or unaware of the tension. "Boy with red hair is upset?"

"Do you even care?" asked Ginny, rounding on him.

"No."

"Then why ask?"

He shrugged. "I am being polite."

"Look, Hermione–" Harry began.

"It's fine, Harry, I promise!" she cut him off quickly, forcing a smile. "I'll be with Ginny."

Ginny hooked an arm around Hermione's, as if to confirm. "Yea, don't worry about Ron, both of you. It's probably just that time of the month. He'll come around."

Harry nodded. He still looked hesitant and especially apologetic towards Hermione before he left them to take the remaining empty seat between Dean and Ron, who had started talking to Parvati at some point and appeared to be engrossed in whatever she was talking about.

When Hermione thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse from there Viktor grabbed her hand just as they entered the Great Hall and brought it to his lips, making her gasp audibly and attract the attention of most diners closest to them, who proceeded to stare wide-eyed and then whisper to the ones next to them that missed the scene. Ginny shot murderous glares at the few that pointed, but it was to no avail as most present have already turned to look at them, including Harry and Ron who were a good distance away.

She yanked her hand free, glaring up at him and willing herself to not cry from sheer humiliation just yet. "Viktor, that was uncalled for!"

"I am saying thank you," he said, more deterred by her anger and not at all concerned with the commotion they just caused. "Also… I am asking if you will cheer for me in tournament."

He sounded so hopeful and looked so bashful that she nearly smiled. _Nearly_.

She was about to decline, say that she's got to cheer for her own school's champions, but then she caught Ron staring at them again from the corner of her eyes and instead she found herself saying: "You know what? I might just do that."


	3. Chapter 3

She ran into Ron first thing in the morning almost a week later. They appeared from the entrance of their respective dormitories at the exact same time, and as the common room was deserted save for one or two students, they were forced to acknowledge each other's presence.

The first thing she noticed was that Ron wasn't making a point of ignoring her or glaring at a particular spot near where she stood. He was shifting rather awkwardly on his feet, struggling to maintain eye contact and looking somewhat sheepish. In other words, Harry had _finally_ managed to get through to him.

"Morning," he mumbled.

Hermione was in a vengeful mood. She glared at him. "Ran out of things to accuse me of, I see?"

"Y-yea," he said, flushing red and averting his eyes.

She noticed her bag from Tomes and Scrolls dangling between his fingers and Viktor's wrapped books tucked underneath the same arm and her glare receded a little. She had forgotten that he had her and Viktor's purchases, and couldn't help but feel a little grateful that he took care of them while they were in his possession as she knows that he normally doesn't take very good care of his own things.

He took a deep breath and approached her, a wary sort of determination on his heavily freckled face. She held her ground and lifted her chin haughtily at him, exactly like the way she knew he hated, but that didn't seem to affect him this time. He stopped a foot before her and held out Viktor's books and her bag.

"You forgot your stuff last time," he said. "Thought you'd want them back."

"Thank you," she said after a while, slowly taking the bag and sliding the books from his hands. "Anything else?"

"Yea," he said, running his hands through his flaming red hair in the exact same way he didn't know _she_ liked. "I was wondering if… if I could– I mean, if Harry and I could join you and Ginny for breakfast."

She stared at him for a long time, feeling her anger slowly subsiding. She knew he wasn't very good at apologies, and as much as she wanted to demand that he gives her a proper one, right now she could see that he was still trying very hard. That and she owes him for going with her and Viktor on that Hogsmeade date even though it made him uncomfortable.

That's not saying that she still didn't have words for him, of course. She is, after all, Hermione Jean Granger and she still happens to be cross with him.

"I didn't ask for this, you know," she said, pleased to see him once again avert his eyes in shame.

"I know, or at least now I do," he said.

"Well if that's the case then please try not to forget it next time. I'm trying to understand the magic behind it, and most importantly how to get out of it without hurting Viktor, so it would be of great help to me if you didn't throw a temper tantrum every time I talk to him because until I figure this out I'll have to put up with him trying to… _impress_ me." She paused. She waited for him to glare at her again but she was surprised to see him nodding along instead. "Are we at an understanding, then?"

"Yea," he said, looking up at her again and giving her a lopsided smile. "So… friends?"

She felt the corners of her lips twitching. "Alright. Let's go get breakfast."

All thoughts of her reconciliation with Ron were instantly pushed aside when they sat by a very sick looking Harry. He was looking down at his cold porridge with fear Hermione's never seen before, so she and Ron took it upon themselves to reassure and distract him until he has to leave for the first task. She did most of the reassuring parts, going through the techniques they discussed late into the night and helping him discreetly practice the Summoning charm on the empty cups and plates, while Ron managed the distraction part very well on his own by bringing up the subject of Quidditch and brooms and other terms Hermione wasn't very familiar with.

She looked at the other champions, curious about how they were handling the stress of competing. Cedric Diggory from the Hufflepuff table next to theirs was laughing and talking with his friends but Hermione didn't fail to notice the slight quiver in his voice or that his hands shook and nearly spilled his drink all over his plate. Fleur Delacour was not even touching her food. Viktor Krum was staring at her with a smitten smile on his face, which only seemed to grow when he realized that she was staring back at him. He raised his hand and waved at her, alerting none other than Draco Malfoy who was sitting right next to him. She quickly turned towards Harry and Ron just as Malfoy looked at her, pretending to be engaged in their conversation despite her face gradually turning pink.

It didn't help that Ludo Bagman thought it appropriate to include her in his commentary before the champions and their dragons even had the chance to grace the arena.

"…the sight of the lovely Miss Granger in the very fist row leaning on the rails and searching anxiously for a glimpse of her boyfriend in the champion's tent, no doubt worried about him now that it's been revealed that dragons are the first task, takes me back to my very first match! Miss Granger certainly reminds me of my girlfriend at the time, then supermodel Tatiana, whose concern and unwavering love and support truly gave me the confidence I needed to win that match! Kelly if you're listening to me right now, let me just express my utmost gratitude…"

Hermione didn't hear the rest of it. She had ducked under the benches and pressed her palms to either side of her head, blushing madly and cursing Bagman to high heavens. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. The whispers and looks she occasionally receives on her way to classes or to the library, that she could take, but an entire makeshift stadium full to the brim with all of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang staring directly at her was too much.

Ginny was instantly on her knees before her, both hands curled around Hermione's wrists in an attempt to yank them away from her face. "Hermione… _Hermione,_ calm down! He's talking about his second wife now, no one is looking this way."

"Don't listen to that stupid git," said George, he and his twin standing guard on either side of her, both looking rather annoyed. "He wants to make this tournament about himself. He's only using you and Krum to get attention."

"Yea, don't worry about it, Granger, we'll get him for you," promised Fred, turning to glare at Bagman. "We've been meaning to, anyway."

"To imply that I'm here for _Viktor_!" she sputtered, feeling the prickle of angry tears at the back of her eyes. "Harry is my best friend! We've been friends since _always,_ and he's also competing! How could he just make that assumption and… and just… _my_ _boyfriend!_ "

"I know, I know," said Ginny soothingly, slowly helping Hermione back on her feet. "I mean at least he didn't use the word 'mate', right?"

"Great, now _everyone_ thinks I'm here for Viktor!" she moaned, once again covering her face with her hands.

"No they don't," said Ron from her other side, his calm tone surprising her into looking up at him. "It's just Bagman, Hermione. Nobody takes him seriously anymore, at least not with that gut."

He was glowering into the arena, but she felt him trying and couldn't help but smile. He had a strange way of calming people when he puts his head to it and she's always appreciated it's instant effect.

He was the third to compete right after Fleur. His dragon was a Chinese Fireball, and although Hermione had stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and put on her best poker face when he walked into the arena to the roar of the crowd, she still couldn't help but go through everything she's read about the dragon in her head.

 _Native to China, also called Liondragon, highly intelligent. Females tend to be larger, around twenty-five feet in height and weighing about two to four tons. Name is derived from the mushroom-shaped flame it shoots from its mouth. Diet consists of mainly mammals, preferably pigs and humans._

"…and poor Miss Granger is torn between her loyalty to Hogwarts' champions and to her beau, who is no doubt thinking of her himself as he comes face to face with the formidable Fireball…"

Hermione didn't think it was possible. There was actually someone _worse_ than Rita Skeeter.

The match was over before she could come up with a way for him to get around such a fast, agile breed. He had clearly somehow known about the dragons the same way Harry did and had done his research on them. It was too intelligent and fast to defeat with only a wand, and especially aggressive when nesting, so Viktor chose to blind the dragon using a simple Conjunctivitis Curse that glued her eyes shut. He then easily climbed into the nest and grabbed the golden egg as the dragon roared in blind rage, signaling the end of his match and for the Dragon Keepers nearby to sweep in and tame the dragon.

She couldn't help it. She was impressed, for even she hadn't thought of using a Conjunctivitis Curse.

He looked up at the cheering crowd. Their eyes met. He grinned and waved at her with his free hand, just as one of the Dragon Keepers lifted the curse from the dragon's eyes.

"Look out!" she screamed.

It was too late. The first thing the dragon saw upon opening her eyes was her assailant still standing in her nest holding one of her eggs, and fueled with anger and protective maternal instincts she swung a whip-like tail that narrowly missed a Keeper and hit Viktor straight in the chest, knocking him over the edge of the nest and onto the rocks several feet below.

Hermione would've leapt over the railings if Ron and Ginny hadn't thought of holding her back. _Oh god, please be alright!_ she prayed, desperately searching the arena with her eyes.

Charlie Weasley and another extra Keeper rushed towards where Viktor fell as the rest finally managed to pacify and contain the raging dragon. Several minutes later they appeared with Viktor from between the rocks and the crowd released a mixture of cheers and collective sighs of relief.

"Ginny," she said, gripping her friend's wrist as she stared wide-eyed as Viktor, Charlie, and the other Keeper retreated into the champions' tent. "Ginny, he's limping!"

"Hermione, it's alright, it's probably not that bad," Ginny said, trying to sound reassuring despite her own worried glance towards the tent. "There are Healers on standby, and Madam Pomfrey of course."

"But he's hurt and it's all my fault! I was distracting him from his task and–"

"Come on, Hermione, it's _Viktor Krum_!" said Ron exasperatingly. "He's taken much worse! Just last year he dislocated his shoulder eight times, broke three ribs, broke his nose in almost every match, nearly fractured his jaw–"

"He could've _died,_ Ron!" she rounded on him, nearing hysterics as he continued listing his idol's many injuries. "This isn't some silly game of Quidditch, this is literally life and death!"

" _Silly_ game of Quidditch?" he said, actually looking offended.

" _Yes,_ compared to the bloody Triwizard Tournament, Quidditch is child's play! Contestants have actually died in the past, and Viktor would've too had the dragon chose to breathe fire instead!"

"Yea, well, it didn't so he's alright–"

"He was _limping,_ Ron! He was just whipped by a dragon's tail! do you even know how powerful they are?!"

"Both of you, _shut it!"_ shouted Ginny, forcing her way between them and placing her palms on their chests to shove them away from each other. "If you weren't so busy fighting like an old married couple you would've heard Bagman announce that Krum is alright. He lost a few points for getting hit, but he's alright and he's still in the lead."

"See? I told you so. He's Viktor Krum and this sort of place is his playground. There's nothing he can't do," said Ron proudly.

"Careful, Ronnie, your crush is showing," sniggered George behind them.

"Shut it!" he shot back, glaring behind his shoulders at the twins as his ears turned a bright red.

"You shut it!" they said in union.

"They took points because he got _hit?"_ Hermione asked incredulously. "He was hit, for goodness' sake!"

Ginny shrugged. "Yea, but he wasn't really paying attention, was he?"

"But he's already got the egg!"

"Doesn't matter, as long as he's in the arena he's still competing."

"That's just so unfair!" she slumped back into the bench, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, and it's all my fault!"

"No it's not," said Ginny resolutely, coming to sit down beside her. "He should've left the arena as soon as he got the egg and he knew that perfectly well. It's his own fault, really, for deciding to play Sir Knight instead. And even if he did loose points he's still in the lead for now."

Hermione nodded but she wasn't convinced. She couldn't stop worrying, and she knew she wouldn't until she sees him with her own eyes.

"Er, I think it's _my_ fault, actually," said Fred after a while, looking sheepish. "You see, I may or may not have cheered for the dragon…"

Harry's turn came before she could scold him. Her thoughts were a great mess by then. She felt like she was in the middle of a brutal game of tug-of-war between her concern over Harry and Viktor, who in her head was lying unconscious on a stretcher somewhere with several broken bones and possibly one or two amputated limbs. It didn't help that Harry, while successful in retrieving the egg, got a bloody shoulder from the Hungarian Horntail's claw that swiped at him when he flew right below her on his broom to make a swift grab for the egg.

She barely paid attention when they announced the results. Viktor and Harry were tied in first place. Bagman didn't add anything about their injuries. She rushed into the infirmary tent as soon as she was allowed to and barreled into Harry when she first saw him lying on one of the beds.

"Hermione," he said, gasping a little as her arms coiled tightly around his neck. "Hermione, I can't breath– Hermione, I'm _alright._ "

"Harry, you were brilliant!" she cried, finally pulling away at Madam's Pomfrey's orders. "You scared me half to death, but you were absolutely brilliant!"

He grinned. "Thanks. Really, Hermione, it was mostly thanks to you."

His spirits were elevated despite him occasionally wincing from the pain. She couldn't tell if it's the lingering adrenaline of facing a dragon or from when the crowd's boos turned to deafening cheers, but either way she was relieved more than anything to see that the injury on his shoulder was shallow and that it was already starting to heal.

Charlie spotted them on his way out before Hermione could stop him. He grinned and shook Harry's free hand.

"Sad to say I didn't see it myself, but from the sounds of it you did great, Harry," he said. "Congratulations on bagging this task."

"Thanks," said Harry, grinning back. "But I didn't exactly 'bag' it. I'm tied with Krum."

Hermione choose then to cut in, too anxious to stand through the conversation politely. "Charlie, how's Viktor?"

"Krum?" He looked over his shoulder towards a bed that had the curtains drawn around it. "He's a real piece of work, I'll tell you that!" He chuckled. "Absolutely refused to take his potion. Said he hated the taste and would rather 'self-heal', or I think that's what he said… got a real thick accent on him, doesn't he? I'm surprised anyone understands him."

"Why would he need potions, what's wrong with him?"

"Oh no, don't worry, it's nothing serious!" he said quickly when he finally heard the urgency in her voice. "It's just a sprained ankle but it still needs to be looked after, you know? He kept refusing so Trevor and I had to hold him down but even that didn't work. He's really a lot stronger than he looks!" he shook his head. "Anyway, Madam Pomfrey had two more champions with burns to look after so we had to sedate him to get it over with. I reckon his ankle is healed by now, but I just left him and he's still quite out of it. Karkaroff left ten minutes ago, so you can go see him now if you want."

She looked up at him, startled. She hadn't even realized that she was staring at the curtained bed the whole time he talked.

"Yes, alright. Thank you, Charlie," she said, averting her eyes as he raised a brow at her.

She was headed towards the bed when Ron stopped her.

"You're not actually going, are you?" he asked, his blue eyes flickering towards the bed then back at her.

"Well, of course I'm going!"

"There's no need, Hermione, Charlie said he's _fine._ "

"I– I know, but still," she bit her lip, fighting down a blush. "I have to see him, Ron."

"Why?" he challenged, narrowing his eyes. "Charlie's word isn't enough?"

"Of course it is, you know I trust Charlie!" she took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Now isn't the time for another row. "Look, I just have to see him, alright? I won't be long."

She was a few steps away when she heard him say: "so all that talk about trying to get out it was just a load of bollocks?"

She paused, contemplated a retort, but thought better of it. Instead she responded by walking through the curtains concealing Viktor's bed. Ron just doesn't understand. He insists on seeing Viktor as the villain from the children's tale, not as equally a victim as she is in this whole mess.

True to Charlie's words, Viktor was completely out of it. He laid sprawled on the bed with the comforter thrown unceremoniously on the ground, a clear indication of a struggle, with his dark hair tousled and a dumb grin plastered on his face.

"Pretty lady look like my mate," he said when he finally managed to take note of her presence.

"I _am_ your ma– Hermione," she quickly corrected herself, shaking her head. "Viktor, how are you feeling?"

"Like I am on broom, but without broom. Is very weird. I no like it, but making me happy."

She snorted. "I imagine it would."

She tentatively walked around the bed and picked the blanket from the ground, conscious of his eyes following her. She hesitated before throwing it over his body, going around the corners to make sure that it covered his feet. He took her hand when she tried to pull the cover over his chest and gripped it with surprising strength. She looked at him, briefly wondering if the effects of the sedative potion have worn off already, but he still had the same dumb grin on face.

"You are very beautiful, Hermione," he said. "How many boys telling you this?"

She blushed, and took comfort in the fact that he was far too drugged to notice. "None, actually, but it's alright. I don't really care about these things."

He only seemed to hear the first word. "Ok, I will tell you for them."

"Viktor–"

"I will make you my queen," he vowed. "Or lady, because I no king, but you become most beautiful lady in all of Bulgaria, and also Britain and France and Spain and Italy and Russia and Ukraine and Belgium and Germany and the Netherlands and–"

"I think I get the premise," she said, biting down a smile as she slipped her hand from his to properly tuck him in.

"So you will be my lady?" he asked hopefully.

"We'll– we'll talk about that when you're well rested."

He scoffed. "I am man, Hermione, I no need rest." He yawned. "I can be awake forever…" He slurred as his lids started sliding over his eyes. "…I will show you beautiful things…"

His hand was groping the sheets for hers but she held back. Ron's words were ringing loudly in her ears.

* * *

A/N: Ah, there's nothing quite like Ron agonising over his jealousy and love of Viktor Krum! More than anything, I always thought that was hilarious in cannon. Also, Tatiana and Kelly are _not_ the same person. It wasn't a typo. Bagman was two-timing them. Right now he's hardcore shipping Hermione/Viktor, though.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Apologies are due, I believe, for this late chapter. I know it's been over a month, and I know I'm guilty, but real life got in the way for a while and then I got attacked by vicious plot bunnies. I really am sorry though! To make up for it I added an extra scene that increased the length of the chapter by two thousand words, so there's that to look forward to :D

Thank you for your patience, and once again I do apologise for the delay.

* * *

The arrival of the morning post shook the Gryffindors from their sleepy stupor. The entire house, first to third years included, had celebrated Harry's victory from the moment he was discharged from the infirmary till the crack of dawn. To Hermione's knowledge some of them were pulling an all-nighter. She herself wasn't one to stay up late on a school night, but for Harry's sake she made an exception. He hasn't been this happy since he was selected by the Goblet, so she couldn't help but grin and lift her Butterbeer in salutation as he was lifted by the twins and paraded around the common room to the cheers of a crowd that have previously hurled insults and false accusations his way.

She was also still worried about Viktor, but that she kept to herself. The last she saw of him he was being moved from the infirmary to rest in his own dormitory on board his school's ship, mumbling still in his sleep about dress robes of all things mixed with who-knows-what in his native tongue. Whatever it was it didn't seem to please Karkaroff too much, for on his way out he shot a particularly nasty look at Ron and Hermione huddled near Harry's bed.

The trio exchanged looks. Harry shrugged when all inquisitive eyes turned to him.

"Don't worry about him, Harry," said George. "He's probably still crying over you almost beating his precious Dumb Krum."

"Don't call him that," said Hermione before she could stop himself.

"Oh _of course_ you'll want to defend your stupid boyfriend," said Ron derisively, sitting on Harry's other side with his arms crossed. "Can't stand seeing a scratch on him, can you?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" she said hotly, clenching her fists by her side. "And he's not stupid, _you_ are!"

Hermione's never one to call people stupid, not unless if angered enough, but with that final blow Ron just managed to push her past the point of 'angered enough'. He's done nothing but shoot her accusatory looks and snide comments since her return from Viktor's side, and she tried her best to ignore him for Harry's sake but she's only human and Ronald Weasley had a way of pushing all her buttons at once with a single word or phrase.

"And how do _you_ know he's smart?" he challenged. "Krum's great on a broom and all, but he's as thick as they come. Everyone who knows anything about Quidditch knows that. Besides," he scoffed, turning to Harry, "catching a Snitch isn't that hard. Harry does it all the time and he doesn't get enough for it."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "I'd really rather not deal with any more fame than necessary..."

"You don't even know him, Ron!" she shot back stubbornly. "These are all things you've read about him in fan magazines. Have you ever actually talked to him or assessed his performance as a wizard and a student?"

"Of course not. I'm not one to get all nice and cozy with my best mate's _enemy_ just because he happens to be a celebrity. I know where my loyalties lie. _"_

" _Enemy?!"_ she half-shrieked, springing to her feet to glare scathingly down at him. "How about you get your head out of your arse for once and _think_ before you speak! Weren't you the one fawning over him just before the Quidditch World Cup, calling him a god and an artist and all that nonsense?"

"She does have a point, little brother," interjected Fred, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "You were very much in love, if I remember correctly. Very emotional, too. It was quite a touching sight, nearly brought tears to my eyes…"

Ron's head snapped towards his older brother, his face bright red and his glare more prominent. "You stay out of this."

"Make me!"

George was between them just as Ron stood on his feet to meet the challenge. "As much as I'd like to start betting on the winner- my money's obviously on you, Freddie. –our champion here is getting very upset, and rightfully so. We're supposed to be celebrating his almost-victory."

"Oh, um, I-" Harry faltered at being the center of attention again, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Really guys, that's not necessary–"

George waved him off, grinning. "Not another word, mate. You focus on healing that cut and don't worry about anything else. Big brother George is here to save the day."

And he did just that by ushering them all out of the infirmary and towards the common room where he got them too busy decorating to start fighting again. Hermione and Ron avoided each other throughout the night and seemed to have come to a silent, mutual agreement just before breakfast this morning to put the incident behind them and to pretend that it never happened.

 _Better this than weeks of the silent treatment, I suppose…_ she thought with a sigh, leaning her cheek on her palm and drawing circles in her cold porridge with her spoon. Her eyes drifted towards the Slytherin table when the first half of the breakfast hour passed. It was nearly full but Viktor's place was still empty. She frowned at the sight. He can't still be asleep. It was only a sprained ankle. He should've been up and about hours ago.

Unless… did Charlie lie to her, to ease her worries? She shook her head. He wouldn't do that to her, and even if he did she'd know. She saw Viktor with her own eyes and he was fine. He was hallucinating and a little disoriented, but otherwise fine.

An irritated hoot startled her out of her thoughts. A beautiful striped owl stood next to her plate. Hermione assumed that she must've landed too gracefully to announce her presence as the other owls normally do by spilling things over. She blinked sleepily at the owl, trying to recognise her, and it's probably the work of her sleep-deprived mind but she could've sworn the thing was actually staring haughtily down her beak at her.

"Krum!" gasped Ron.

Hermione's head snapped towards the Slytherin table, searching frantically for the tall lean figure. "Where?"

Ginny nudged her, biting back a knowing, albeit sleepy grin. "The owl, Hermione. It's from Krum."

Oh. _Oh._

Hermione blushed, clearing her throat and looking at no one but the owl. "I see."

It was then she saw the crest with Cyrillic letters hanging from the owl's breast. The owl placed her talon on Hermione's hand just as she was about to untie the letter. Hermione sighed tiredly then retrieved the letter with her free hand. She didn't have the energy to question it. Too many strange things were happening and the day had only just begun.

"Well, aren't you a perfect little lady," crooned Ginny, stroking the owl's wing. The bird looked highly offended by the gesture.

The letter wasn't from Viktor reassuring her that's he's alright, as she had secretly hoped. It was from a person she's never even thought of.

" _D-Daughter!"_ she sputtered, turning an even brighter shade of pink at reading just the first word. "Honestly, how does she–! We've never even met, how could she just assume that… that I'm just… _ugh!"_

Ginny's attention was quickly on Hermione again. She leaned away from the owl to look over Hermione's shoulder. "Who's it from?"

"His _mother!"_

"What!" This time it was Harry, nearly choking on his cereal. "How do you know Krum's mother?"

"I don't, I've never even met the woman and she's already addressing me as her daughter!"

Hermione crumpled the letter in her hands with a growl, and for a moment contemplated burning it. It's bad enough that she's got to deal with the son's obsessive doting on a daily basis, but now it appears that his entire family is hell bent on hounding her when she's already stressed as it is with this dilemma on top of her schoolwork and with the usual task of keeping her best friend alive for another school year.

"What did she want?" asked Ginny after a while when she was sure that Hermione had finally managed to control her breathing.

Hermione opened her mouth to declare that she doesn't know and doesn't care and never wants to know, but then clamped it shut. What if something had happened to Viktor during the night and his mother was only updating her on his condition? Or worse yet, what if he _needed_ her?

With a defeated sigh she unfurled the letter and smoothed it down on the table. It read:

 _Daughter,_

 _I am happy that my son found his mate early in life, but I'm also beginning to worry that your presence at the games might cost him his life. I'm not angry at you, sweetheart, nor am I blaming you for his injuries but the truth is you distracted him from his task. While he did come in first place despite that blunder he was still at risk, and as his mate I'm sure you'll understand and even agree with me when I say that it's best if you skip attending the remaining two tasks. They will only get more difficult and dangerous from here, and I know that Viktor's safety is far more important to you than attending some silly game._

 _Now tell me, how is my son treating you? I keep asking him about you but he's ignoring my letters, so when I read of his injuries I took it upon myself to contact you instead. I have no doubt in my heart that he's being the perfect gentleman I raised him to be but sometimes men, especially the overprotective type such as my husband and my son, can come off a little too strongly to those they love most so if he ever steps out of line please let me know._

 _If you don't mind me saying, I've asked around and heard many wonderful things about you and your adventures with Harry Potter. Needless to say, I'm so very happy to have you as my son's mate and I can hardly wait to meet you. Don't tell Viktor I said this, but the truth is I've always wanted a daughter. I already consider you my own and I hope that one day you will find it in your heart to call me Mama._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Carolina Krum._

 _P.S. I understand that, having had a Muggle upbringing, you're likely unaware of our ways and customs. I will teach you everything when the time comes, but for the mean time I placed an order for an English guidebook that will help you with your relationship with my son. I will send it to you as soon as I receive it. I hope that it proves to be as helpful to you as it was with me when I was engaged to my husband. Would you also like to learn Bulgarian? You don't need to, I suppose, as everyone in the house can speak English to a certain degree, but it would be easier for you later when you graduate and move with Viktor to Bulgaria. Owl me your answer and I will send you the necessary material._

For once Hermione was speechless. She gaped at the letter, wondering what it is that she's done to her mother as a child to earn this rather cruel and unusual punishment. Ginny was still leaning over her shoulder, her hazel eyes skimming fast over the neat curves of Carolina Krum's words and gradually widening with disbelief.

Harry reached over the table and grasped her wrist to give her a hard shake. "Hermione. Hermione, _breathe_!"

She sucked in a quick long gulp of air when she realised that she's been holding her breath since she started reading the letter, then coughed at the sudden attack on her stinging lungs. Ron snatched the letter she dropped in her coughing fit and skimmed over it.

His face blanched, and for once in a long time he and Hermione were on the same page. "They're mental, the whole lot of them!" he absently passed it to Harry, staring at Hermione with alarm. "You can't go to Bulgaria with Krum, Hermione, you've got to do something about this! We can talk to McGonagall or Dumbledore or report him to the bloody Ministry or–"

" _Ron,_ let her breathe first!" Ginny snapped at him, patting Hermione's back. "And it's not exactly illegal for his mother to owl her, just… weird."

"I don't care what it is! I'm telling you he's up to something and now he's got his mother involved. I don't like this and I don't trust him one bit."

"I don't think he knows his mother sent this," said Harry next to him, returning the letter to Hermione. "She said something about customs. Maybe this is just one of them?"

Hermione finally found her voice, however hoarse and shaky it was. "Is it a pureblood tradition of some kind, then?"

Ginny shrugged. "Don't look at me. I come from a family of traitors, remember? I wouldn't know."

"Maybe it's a Bulgarian custom?" suggested Harry.

"I still think we should talk to someone about this!" said Ron. "I say Dumbledore. Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth but Ginny beat him to it. "And what exactly is Dumbledore going to do about this? I'm pretty sure he's got bigger things to worry about than some weird Bulgarian mother thousands of miles away, such as who the bloody hell put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire! _"_

"It could be Krum, or Karkaroff!"

" _Why_ would either one of them put Harry's name in?"

"Obviously to get him killed, Ginny! Karkaroff is a Death Eater and Krum wants Hermione to himself."

"Karkaroff I can understand, but Krum? It doesn't make any sense. Harry's not after Hermione, so he wouldn't be a threat to him."

Harry nodded in agreement. "She's like a sister to me."

"Yea, well, he still doesn't know that," said Ron stubbornly. He then turned to Hermione. "What do you say, Hermione? We'll explain everything to Dumbledore and show him the letter."

Hermione took a deep breath, staring down at the letter again. The prospect of getting a powerful wizard such as Dumbledore involved was tempting, but Ginny was right. Dumbledore's got too much on his plate as it is and doesn't need to burden himself any further with something she could easily take care of herself.

She folded the letter and stuffed it in her pocket, then grabbed her bag and got up from the table.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron, frowning.

"Ginny's right, Ron," she said with a sigh. "I can't get Dumbledore involved. I have to take care of this on my own."

"How?"

"I'll talk to Viktor."

She left before he could shout his protests after her. She knew Ron meant well, but she needed whatever energy she had left to properly handle her conversation with Viktor and whatever state he might be in at the moment.

She found him running laps around the lake to the rather loud instructions of Karkaroff. The Death-Eater-turned-headmaster had conjured up a chair and a table with a tray of tea and biscuits that he appeared to have forgotten about in his frenzy to train Viktor to an inch of his life, who was flushed and practically drenched in sweat. He didn't complain or show his exhaustion, though, but continued jogging around the perimeter of the murky lake with his face set in a determined scowl.

Hermione was going to slowly back out of the scene and return later but then Viktor saw her. His eyes widened and then a large, happy grin lit his features. He ran past a bellowing Karkaroff and barrelled straight into her, knocking the wind out of her lungs and nearly throwing them both to the ground.

"Hermione, you are here! You come because you miss me, yes? I miss you too, always. Karkaroff will not allow me to do anything, but is ok because you find me now and I am happy!"

He was talking so fast she was barely able to decipher a few English-sounding words. Her face was pressed against his chest but she somehow knew that he had an elated expression plastered on his face. She was immensely relieved that for the moment he couldn't see her stunned and blushing madly.

She could still hear Karkaroff shouting from the distance. He kept switching from English to Bulgarian. She didn't need to be familiar with the man to know that that can't be a good sign.

"It was the worst day of my life," Viktor declared, either unaware or uncaring of Karkaroff shouting at him from the lake. "I thought Karkaroff will never let me see you again." He then tightened his arms around her and lifted her in the air and spun them around in a circle.

"No Viktor, put me down!" she squealed, pushing at his chest. He released her immediately but didn't seem deterred by her just yet. She took a moment to straighten herself. "We need to talk."

"Viktor, I demand that you come back here this instant!" Karkaroff shouted from near the lake, looking mad and on the verge of tearing his hear out of his scalp.

If Viktor heard Karkaroff at all he didn't show it. He continued smiling lovingly at Hermione instead. She almost pitied the man, but then he turned his murderous glare at her and she couldn't help but flinch. "Perhaps I should come another time…"

The face Viktor made gave her the impression that he just witnessed a tragedy. "No, this is perfect time! Please don't go. I missed you so much."

She fought down another blush at the bold confession. _Focus, Hermione! You're upset with him._

"Viktor!" Karkaroff growled between his teeth, his wand hand twitching and his eyes blazing with fury as he pointed a bony finger at the ground before his feet. " _Come. Here."_

Viktor grasped her hand and the next thing she knew they were running at full speed towards the castle.

"Viktor, no– what- what are you _doing_?" she squeaked in horror, glancing over her shoulders at a raging Karkaroff and stumbling after Viktor in an attempt to match his faster, longer leaps. Karkaroff's curses were gradually starting to fade behind them, but Viktor grip on her hand only tightened.

"We are running, of course," he said simply, barely even panting.

She glowered at his back. If only she'd agreed to go jogging with her mother during the summer holidays!

They stopped when they neared the entrance of the library, now both winded and leaning against the wall gasping for air.

"What were you thinking?" she shrilled, rounding on him fast when she finally managed to ease her racing heart. "Viktor, you must back and apologise to your headmaster! You'll be in so much trouble if you don't."

Viktor gave her a dismissive wave. "No. Don't care about Karkaroff."

"You will when he deals with you later!"

He shrugged.

She made a frustrated sound, then crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, glaring at a spot on the ground. "You're stubborn for the stupidest reasons sometimes."

"Wanting to see my mate is not stupid reason. Karkaroff will forget."

"You know he won't!" she said crossly. "And stop using that word!"

"Ok. Igor will forget."

" _Word_ , Viktor, not name." She shook her head. "That's not important right now, anyway." She muttered, then reached into her pocket and pulled out his mother's letter. "I got this just before seeing you."

He unfurled the letter and started reading it. The jubilant expression on his face melted into a deep frown.

"I don't know what you told her," she began, studying his face still glued to the letter, "but this is not… this is _too much,_ Viktor. It's too soon, and very… very overwhelming."

She cursed herself for giving in to her anger and going straight for him instead of practicing her speech first as she normally does. He was expecting some kind of an explanation and she found it difficult to express her thoughts on the matter without revealing her true feelings towards him and potentially breaking his heart.

A tiny, dark thought unexpectedly crept into her mind. What would it really be like, for one to break a Veela's heart? Would it be like a heart attack? Will there be blood, or will he just drop dead on the spot? Will flames engulf him? The female Veela seem to have some kind of affinity with fire...

She shivered. She shoved the thoughts aside. She didn't want to ponder on them anymore than necessary.

"All I'm trying to say is that I need some space to process all this," she said. "And I understand that your mother means well, but her letter… to be honest with you it felt a little stifling, and I just can't handle this right now on top of everything else. Don't get me wrong, she sounds like a kind woman, but I just… I can't–"

He cut her off by heaving a dejected sigh. She was surprised to see that he appeared rather ashamed with his mother's conduct. Hermione was expecting him to come to her defence in a heartbeat, maybe even throw a few hurtful words her way.

He folded the letter and passed it back to her. "I know. I am sorry, Hermione. My mother, she… she's very…" he was gesturing wildly with his hands, struggling with his search for the right word. Hermione suddenly remembered that she hasn't given him his books yet. "She likes to control people. Me." Again he sighed. "You don't worry no more, ok? I will speak to her. I will fix it." He then took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips. "I am sorry she upset you. She is writing to you because I am not. I will tell her to stop."

She averted her eyes and quickly slipped her hands from his. "And– and why don't you write to her?"

"She… how you say? Nags. She nags too much, everyday."

"Viktor!"

"Is true!"

"She's still your mother! She was clearly worried about you fighting that dragon and you haven't even bothered telling her that you're alright. You know what, I changed my mind. _I_ will talk to her about… about this letter." She narrowed her eyes at him when he tried to protest. "You, sir, will apologise for making her worry all this time, and then you'll tell her that you love her and that she's a fantastic mother and you will not mention this letter she sent to me. At all. Do I have your word?"

"Hermione, I don't want to!" he whined.

She bit back a smile at his pout. "I don't care what you want, you will write to your mother this instant." She then grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the library and to the closest empty desk, ignoring his pleadings and complaints all the way. She sat him down and presented him with a clean sheet of parchment and her spare quill. She then took the seat facing his to write her own letter. For a while he did nothing but stare at her with an utterly miserable, shattered look on his face.

It could've worked. She would've probably caved if she was some other girl rather than Hermione Jean Granger, the very same witch that was solely responsible for making her friends submit their homework on time.

"Don't bother. It won't work with me. The faster you write your letter the sooner I'll let you go."

He groaned, but took the spare quill anyway. "I don't want you to let me go. I want to stay with you forever, even when you make me sad. Now you are torturing me but maybe I am crazy because I still want to be with you. Why you do this?"

This time she actually smiled at her paper as she dipped her own quill in ink. She wondered if Ron or the press or any other Quidditch fanatic knew of this incredibly melodramatic side of Viktor Krum.

She was in her room helping Ginny with a Charms essay when she received a reply from Viktor's mother.

"That was fast," commented Ginny as she let the same snooty striped owl in, this time carrying a small package with her. "Didn't you send you reply just after breakfast?"

"I did," replied Hermione, feeling more unsettled than impressed.

She had sent a fairly lengthy reply just this morning, and while it didn't explicitly state that she had zero interest in pursuing a relationship with Viktor at _any_ point in her life, she was still very clear about maintaining her distance for the time being. She also mentioned that they weren't exactly 'official' just yet, nor was there any kind of 'courting' taking place because right now Hermione's utmost priority is her schoolwork. She also said that she simply can't skip attending the remaining two tasks of the tournament because Harry is also competing and he needs her now more than ever. She was careful with her wording but she was still fuelled by her frustration at the rather demanding and slightly condescending letter. She wasn't sure if she's quite ready to read her reply just yet.

The owl gave a disgruntled hoot, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. "Oh, I'm sorry! You poor thing must be exhausted from all the flying you did today. You can spend the night at the owlery if you want. There's plenty of space available and the other owls are all very friendly."

The owl looked revolted by the prospect, despite her wet and ruffled state. She shoved the talon carrying the letter at Hermione, and once freed of both letter and package, she quickly flew to the window and tapped her beak against the glass. Ginny snorted but moved to open the window. The owl was out before she could push it open all the way.

"Let me find out she's got her own palace in Bulgaria…" said Ginny with an amused smile as she watched the owl fly a good distance before closing the window and joining Hermione on her bed. "I'm going to assume that the package is the book she was talking about. Which one would you like to open first?"

"The letter, I suppose," she muttered, placing the package on Ginny's lap. "You unwrap the package."

Hermione heard the wrapper getting torn to pieces next to het but the letter in her hands momentarily snubbed her curiosity of the book. It was infinitely shorter than the previous letter but much more horrifying to the eyes and mind, and this time she didn't even have to address Hermione as her daughter to have that affect on her.

 _Why not? The sex is great._

Hermione tore the letter to pieces, her face beet red and her eyes brimming with angry, embarrassed tears. She then swiftly set the remains on fire, her wand shaking in her hand as she glared hard at the flames dying in the bowl she transfigured. Ginny was quiet on the bed behind her, but Hermione could tell from the faint blush on her cheeks that she managed to read the letter just before it got destroyed.

"The _sex_ is great!" Hermione repeated hysterically, now pacing before Ginny, her expression as wild as her hair. "That's all she could say to me, after everything I told her? I'm only _fourteen,_ and her son is barely legal, she shouldn't be encouraging this… this…" she made an angry sound, feeling her face getting redder with the mere thought. "Oh, I should've let Viktor talk to her! That woman is impossible!"

Ginny was quiet for a while, thoughtful. "How does she know?"

"Ginny!"

"I'm serious! Think about it."

"I don't want to!"

"Not _that_ ," she said, rolling her eyes. "Krum's half-Veela, yea? According to Fleur those are rare on their own, and according to the many books you've read full male Veela don't exist, so that would make his mother a full Veela and his father a wizard."

Hermione stopped her frantic pacing. "I don't understand. What does that have to do with anything?"

She shrugged. "Nothing really. I'm just curious, I suppose, as to how she'd know that the, urm, the…" again she blushed. She quickly cleared her throat. "That it's great since she's only been with wizards before."

Hermione thought about that for a moment. Truly, how _does_ she know?

She shook her head. She was probably just trying to get Hermione to change her mind.

"I don't know, Ginny," she sighed, flopping down on the bed next to her. "Maybe she's been with a man who was at least partly Veela before she met Viktor's father, or maybe she's just bluffing."

"It's possible," agreed Ginny. "But whatever you may think of her now, you've got to admit that she's got a wicked sense of humour."

"Why do you say that?"

Ginny showed her the book she unwrapped. The cover had a picture of a little boy and a girl cuddling a golden retriever. _Puppy Training: an Essential Guide,_ the title read.

* * *

A/N: Karkaroff is going to need a vacation after this, somewhere sunny and tropical and as far away from these pesky lovestruck teenagers as possible... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that :D


	5. Chapter 5

Lavender and Parvati seem to have taken an interest in befriending Hermione, much to the witch's chagrin, and she's certain that it's got nothing to do with her often-praised merits. It was during her nightly reading session when the curtains of her bed were pulled apart to reveal her two pajama-clad, grinning roommates. They sat on either side of her _uninvited_ and started talking about things she didn't really care about.

So much for light reading before bedtime, she thought with a sigh. She closed _Puppy Training: An Essential Guide_ over her bookmark. The incessant chatter on either side of her ceased.

"Well?" she asked, a little impatiently when they remained quiet and uncertain. "Out with it. What do you want to know?"

"About what, Hermy?" asked Lavender innocently.

"It's _Hermione_!" she snapped. "And you know very well why we're all sitting here. Whatever it is you want to know about Viktor you might as well ask him yourselves because I probably don't know and never want to anyway."

"Ooh, they're on first name basis already!" squealed Lavender, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Lav!" hissed Parvati, looking anxious but then quickly donning a smile when Hermione whipped around to face her. "Er, what she means is – since we're on the subject of _boys,_ anyway," here her 'mask' slipped as she and Lavender locked eyes and giggled, "well I mean it might come as a surprise to you but Lav and I haven't really snogged any of the boys."

"Shocking," muttered Hermione.

"Our options are very limited, if you think about," said Lavender, oblivious to Hermione's sarcastic undertone. "All the good cute ones are taken–"

"Or gay!" added Parvati.

"–and the remaining ones are stupid. How are we supposed to choose, and for it to be out first kiss!" She placed her hand over her heart, looking horrified with the idea.

"Does it really matter?" asked Hermione. "It's supposed to be messy and awkward anyway, so why bother?"

They exchanged looks. Parvati slumped, an astonished look on her face. "Huh. Who would've known that Viktor Krum is a messy, awkward kisser."

"He's not!" she said quickly in his defense, then blushed when both girls erupted into excited giggles. "I– I wouldn't know that, of course!"

"It's alright, Hermione, you can tell us!" said Lavender, grasping one of her hands in both of hers and looking earnestly up at her. "We're just curious."

"And we won't tell anyone, promise!" Parvati chimed in. "We know how hard it is to date a celebrity–"

"We are _not_ dating!"

"–especially one like Viktor Krum who has got to have the most annoying, inconsiderate fangirls."

"You tell me," Hermione snorted, remembering all the nasty stares and comments thrown her way as well as the petty notes left on her usual desk in the library.

"So you'll tell us?" asked Lavender, so excited with the prospect that she could hardly sit still.

"Tell you what?" asked Hermione, looking between the two friends.

Parvati rolled her eyes, as if the request at hand was so painfully obvious that it didn't need to be voiced. "What's it like, Hermione! What did you do?"

She frowned. What are they on about now?

"Oh, yes! How did you know when to close your eyes?" asked Lavender.

"What did you do with your hands?" asked Parvati.

"What did he do with _his_ hands?"

"Did he use his tongue?"

"Did you gag?"

"What did you do afterwards?"

"Good question, Parvati! Was it awkward?"

Hermione scrambled away from the duo and positioned herself in front of them, feeling dizzy from their interrogation and from turning her head towards the direction of every question fired.

"Stop!" she said, holding up her hands when she saw that they were about to ask her more questions. She relaxed when they closed their mouths and stared back at her expectantly. "Alright. Urm, thank you. Now from the top. What on Earth are you two trying to ask me?"

"If you've snogged Krum already, silly girl!" said Lavender with a giggle.

"And what's it like," added Parvati excitedly. "I mean he's _Viktor Krum,_ it must've been phenomenal!"

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her roommate's choice of words. "Whatever it is I wouldn't know because, as I've said countless of times already, Viktor and I are not dating _therefore_ we did not kiss."

"Ooh, but you thought of it!" gushed Lavender. "You have, haven't you, you little minx?"

"Little– little _minx?"_ Hermione sputtered, feeling her face heating up either at the casual way in which Lavender said it or at the actual thought of kissing Viktor.

Parvati gasped, placing her hands on her cheeks and giving Hermione the look of an awed, proud parent. "Aw Hermione, you're blushing!"

"I– I am _not!"_ she sprung to her feet, very much aware of the condition of her face as she held the curtain of her four-poster bed with one hand and gestured with the other for them to leave. "Now if you'll excuse me I've got classes in the morning and I would like to be awake throughout each and every one of them, as should you two rather than wasting your nights tittering away about boys and celebrities."

"She's back!" Lavender sang contemptuously under her breath.

Parvati followed her friend off Hermione's bed and towards her own. "Alright, alright, Granger, we'll leave you alone. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," mumbled Hermione to their now closed curtains, feeling small and pathetic all of a sudden. It didn't occur to her that until now that Lavender and Parvati have rarely, if ever, called her by her first name. They've barely acknowledged her before, and the few times they did it was always to tease her about her hair or wardrobe.

It also didn't occur to her that they were trying to ask _her_ for advice on _kissing._ Granted she's as inexperienced as they were but for a tiny moment she felt like she was a part of a girls' group, and she'd face a hundred trolls before admitting it out loud but it felt… nice. She's never had girl friends to have proper girl talks with. Ginny has always been her best and closest girl friend, but she was younger than her and the only problems she came to her for were school related. They talked about boys a few times, mostly to complain about the oblivious ones they knew, but never once did Ginny come to Hermione for help with Harry and Hermione was barely coming to terms with her growing feelings for Ron and she was still too mortified with the idea of confiding in his little sister of all people. She was only open about her problems with Viktor because she was desperate for a way out.

She placed her book on the nightstand and fully closed the heavy red curtains around her. For the remainder of the night she had no appetite for words.

The morning classes were cancelled. Hermione wasn't feeling particularly willing to spend an hour listening to Harry's sympathies, Ron's nagging, Ginny's snark, or the twins' jokes so she skipped breakfast and went straight to the library. Dumbledore had announced that each house will have a meeting with its head, hence the cancelation of the morning classes, so she thought she'd read a little to ease her mind.

Viktor, it appears, wasn't feeling very hungry either. He slid into the chair facing hers.

"I did not see you at breakfast, so I come find you. Why are you not eating?" he asked, more pleading than scolding. "You must eat something, Hermione, you will be dizzy later."

She grit her teeth, grabbed the first book in sight, and opened a random page. _How to Handle a Puppy's Excessive Attention-Seeking Behavior,_ the chapter read. Below the title was an image of a puppy hoping onto the lap of a woman reading a book, startling her and prompting her to drop her book on the ground.

 _How fitting,_ thought Hermione with a scoff, then froze. An idea formed in her mind.

"Is not good," he continued. "Once I do the same. I don't eat, and then in practice I fall from broom. I did not die, but I broke my leg. Coach was very angry, also teammates were not happy."

She flipped through the page, pretending that she's not seeing him or hearing him at all.

"Now I always eat, because coach he is saying next time I fall from broom he will kill me. Is stupid threat, because if I'm flying high and I fall I die, no? But is ok, I will never die because I am strong."

She took out her planner and pretended to write down important dates in the small calendar at the back.

"You think I am strong, yes?" he asked, flashing her a grin then frowning when he finally noticed her lack of attention. "…Hermione? You are listening to me?"

She continued jotting down random notes without sparing him a glace. He was about to snatch her planner out of her hands when she leaned back in time and out of his reach.

"Hey, why you ignore me?" he made another sweep for her journal. She miraculously managed to keep it out his reach a second time, biting down hard on her lips to prevent herself from grinning. "Are you angry with me?" he asked in alarm. "Why, what I do? Is it boy with red hair telling you things? He is lying!"

 _Ron,_ she almost corrected him.

"Ok, you tell me why you are angry with me and I swear I will make things better," he pleaded. He waited a heartbeat. She didn't even flinch. "Is not fair, Hermione! How do you want me to make things better if I don't know what I do or what boy with red hair is saying?" something flashed across his features. He grinned. "If you don't tell me I will not be sad. If you don't talk to me I will take off my clothes and all the girls here will fall in love with me. Then what will you do?"

It took all of her will power to not drop everything in her hands and admonish him for merely thinking of behaving indecently in the middle of her precious library. She had to remind herself that he was only trying to rile her up to get a reaction out of her, and her scolding him or attempting to stop him would be giving him the attention he wants. Hermione has lost several things since the disastrous World Cup, such as her privacy and dignity, but this battle she absolutely _refuses_ to lose. If she's going to be stuck in this situation for some time then damn it all she will have some control!

She yawned and buried herself even deeper in her book.

"Oh, you think I joke?" he grabbed the hems of his shirt.

 _Negative attention is still attention,_ she reminded herself. The book had told her that Viktor– er, the puppy would still see victory in that. She must not give in.

"Last chance, Hermione," he taunted, lifting the shirt over his stomach. "I will be kidnapped by crazy girls. You will lose me forever."

 _Your threat is horribly misplaced,_ she thought, then glanced at his exposed stomach and quickly covered the sight by lifting her book higher. He appeared so tall and skinny that she didn't expect him to have an… _appealing_ stomach. Not particularly muscular, but not exactly hallow-looking either. It was somewhere in between, taut and strong despite the sallow skin, just the way she likes it.

"Mr. Krum, what do you think you're doing?" hissed Madam Pince, poking her head from the shelves and making Viktor jump and quickly pull down his shirt. Hermione nearly sighed in relief.

"I– nothing," he stammered, flushing.

"Are you bothering Miss Granger?" she demanded, coming to stand by their desk.

Hermione chose then to look up from her book, but still she kept her eyes away from Viktor and towards the very cross-looking librarian. "Not at all, Madam Pince. He was only showing me a scar from an injury I was asking about it."

"Well there's a time and place for such conversations! Knowing you Miss Granger you probably weren't expecting a show either," she turned her glare back to Viktor. "Next time I see such crude behavior I will have you permanently removed from the library. Understood?"

He nodded meekly, then openly glared at her back when she turned around and walked away from them.

"You know that I am only nice to her because I want to be here with you, yes? Otherwise I show evil old lady who is boss," he said, then sighed when he saw that Hermione had gone back to her previous task of ignoring him.

He stared at her with a deep, thoughtful look on his face as his fingers drummed the smooth surface of the desk. He looked at the neat stack of books next to her, a slow smile spreading across his face. He moved his hand towards the stack and placed it on the side. Hermione's itched to slap it away, knowing his intention, but she stood her ground. _Only a little longer…_

He pushed the stack over the edge of the desk. The books fell with several loud thuds. She saw Viktor smirking triumphantly at her from the corner of her eyes, expecting her to lash out at him any moment now for knocking down her books, and she nearly did but then she took a deep breath and turned to another page. Slowly the smile melted off his face. He then sighed, defeated. He got up from his chair, collected her books from the ground and placed them back on her desk in their original neat stack. He returned to his place and watched her for a while longer, fretful and anxious of her mysterious behavior, before grabbing a book from her stack and opening it to a random page in an attempt to distract himself.

She gave him a moment, then looked up at him. He was too busy reading to notice and he no longer looked anxious but he still had a deep frown on his face. She closed her book with a smile. "Thank you, Viktor."

He looked up at her, startled, then smiled knowingly. "You are welcome."

They continued reading in silence for the rest of the hour. Hermione was contemplating starting a draft for her Runes essay when Lavender, Parvati, and a small group of their giggling, whispering friends approached them. For some reason Hermione felt nervous, despite Parvati's friendly smile.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," greeted Parvati, taking the empty seat next to Hermione. "Have you got a minute?"

"That's alright," said Hermione, glancing at Lavender grinning encouragingly at her from behind Parvati. "What is it?"

"The girls and I are going to Muggle London this weekend for some fun- my mum's treat. Sorry, Viktor. Girls' night. No boys!" she wagged her finger at his beaming face. He pouted. "Anyway, Hermione, I was wondering if you'd like to join us? We've got permission from McGonagall. I don't think she'd mind if we add one more person to the list."

"Oh," she breathed, shocked with the offer yet extremely flattered. Her eleven-year-old self would've definitely rejoiced and jumped at the invitation, but present-day Hermione was a little suspicious of their intentions. Still, a weekend in London with potential new girl friends sounded like a lot of fun…

A high-pitched squeal followed by collective giggles disrupted her train of thought. She saw three of Lavender and Parvati's friends gushing unintelligibly over a very uncomfortable looking Viktor.

A blue-eyed brunette managed to form a coherent sentence. She stuck her hand out at Viktor. "I'm Grang– Hermione's friend, Sally-Mae!"

He got up on his feet and bowed. "Viktor Krum." He looked at her hand hanging limply by his face, then took it in his hand and kissed it.

The girls shrieked, the ear-splitting sound echoing in the mostly empty library. Hermione's fingers coiled tightly around her quill, her mood soured and her hopes crushed to dust. So that's why they invited her, because they still somehow believed that she's dating a Quidditch superstar. They obviously wouldn't spare her or her weekends a second thought under normal circumstance. They would've been her good friends a long time ago if they did.

And was it really necessary for him to kiss her hand? It's not like the slags knew that he was raised to respond that way to such gestures!

Lavender spun around to face her friends, mortified and livid with their behavior. "He's taken!" she hissed, quickly ushering them away from Viktor. "We talked about this, Sally-Mae. You promised you wouldn't embarrass us! Now I have half a mind to convince Parvati to remove you from this trip."

The girl called Sally-Mae fell into a chant of apologies and half-baked excuses while the other two girls hung behind her in shame. Lavender merely rolled her eyes at the pathetic sight, though Hermione could've sworn she saw a satisfied glint in her eyes.

"So what do you say?" asked Parvati, drawing her attention back to their subject. "Shall I ask McGonagall to add your name to the list?"

"No, thank you," said Hermione coldly. "I've already made plans this weekend."

"Oh. I see." Parvati looked dismayed with the answer. "Maybe next time, then."

"Maybe," Hermione replied dismissively, shuffling her books around. "Will that be all?"

Even Viktor looked surprised with her frosty conduct. He raised his eyebrows at her. Parvati merely exchanged confused looks with Lavender, who shrugged in response. She then wordlessly got up and rushed to join her friends towards the exist, occasionally looking over her shoulders at Hermione.

Hermione got up to return her books when she was sure that they were out of the library. Viktor followed her.

"You don't want to go to London?" he asked, grabbing the book from her hand and sliding it back in its place at the top shelf she was struggling to reach.

"Thanks," she muttered. She got on her knees to return another book to the lower shelves.

"You did not answer my question," he noted.

She got back up with a sigh. "No, Viktor, I obviously don't want to go to London."

"You were going to say Yes. I can tell. What happened?"

She shoved a book into its place a little too aggressively. "Nothing. I had a change of heart."

"Why? You should go. It could be fun."

"I don't care."

Her grabbed the last book from her hand and returned it to its place. "Hermione, you work too hard. Is not healthy. You need to have a break sometimes."

"Thanks, Mum," she grumbled, pushing past him. "Now if you're done nagging, I've got more reading to catch up on."

She wandered into the history section and started sifting through the rather generous, dusty selection. It didn't take long for Viktor to find her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't mean to annoy you," he said, making her look up from her book at him. "I only want you to have fun. The girls, they look nice."

She narrowed her eyes then closed the book with a snap. "Oh, you'd think that wouldn't you, Mr. Indecent Exposure?"

"What is meaning of…" he frowned, straining to remember her words, "… what you said?"

She sighed. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I simply don't want to go with those girls. Let's just please leave it at that."

She slipped past him before he could say anything. He continued following her, silent and contemplative as she looked through more books to add to her reading.

"Hermione," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "are you jealous?"

"Jealous of what, Viktor?" she asked, too distracted with a random discovery to fully take in the nature of his question. _House Elves and Self-Hatred._ She grabbed the book without a second thought. This Veela dilemma aside, she hasn't completely forgotten about her mission to free those poor elves.

"Of me kissing that girl's hand," he said. "You know I am only doing it because I have to. I don't like her, or anyone else. I only like you."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed that he brought up the incident again just as she was about to forget it and focus on more important things like mistreated, misrepresented creatures. "You can kiss any girl you want, Viktor, I don't care."

She really, really, _really_ doesn't.

He paused, contemplating her words. He smiled, then bent down and kissed her cheek. She gasped, feeling the heat rush to her face and her two books slipping from her grasp. Her hand flew to her face to touch the tingling spot he kissed, just above her jawline, expecting to find something unusual there. The only thing her fingers caught was the warmth spreading from the blood rushing underneath her skin.

Viktor bent to retrieve her books, grinning. "What? You said I can kiss any girl I want."

She gingerly took the books from his hands, at a loss for words. _Don't lose your head just yet, Hermione!_ She chided herself. _He's not himself. He wouldn't even notice you if it weren't for this whole Veela curse, just like Lavender and Parvati wouldn't want to be your friends under different circumstances._

"I have to go," she blurted, rushing to their desk to collect her things. "I have to… we have to see our head of house, for something. Professor McGonagall is waiting for us– me. I'm assuming everyone's already there, which is why I should hurry. I hate being late."

He nodded, unfazed by her rather embarrassing babble. "I will be here."

She left the library wishing that she hadn't skipped breakfast after all. She was scared again and this time also a little sad for reasons she couldn't exactly pinpoint. One thing she knew for certain is that she needs to figure out a solution for this mess and fast.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry if the chapter was a little boring! There shall be more shenanigans and madness in the following two chapters- I can promise you this much! After all it wouldn't be a ball without drama, hilarity, fluff, and a few broken hearts...


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter is a little longer than the rest. Almost as long as WTDTYAD chapters, which I tried to avoid but then it was either this or split the chapter in two. I figured once wouldn't hurt.

* * *

It is said that desperate people in desperate situation will likely take desperate decisions. It is also said that there are no desperate situations, only desperate people.

"Neville, will you be my date for the Yule Ball?" Hermione hurriedly asked a very stunned Neville Longbottom without once stumbling over her words.

Neville stepped back, looking very awkward and flustered with himself. "I, er, really?" he squeaked, then blushed furiously. "I– I don't know what to say, Hermione, I'm sorry– you're really nice and I'm really flattered, honestly, it's just– well, you see, the thing is–"

"Oh, never mind, just walk away!" she cried, sinking into the sofa behind her and burying her face in her hands.

He hesitated, now truly looking as sorry as he claimed. He sat next to her on the sofa. "I'm really sorry, Hermione," he said earnestly. "It's nothing against you, promise! You were actually my first choice, it's just…" he swallowed. "…I-I just really don't want to get on Krum's bad side."

"Oh for goodness' sake!"

"Ron's said he's got fangs!"

Ginny rolled her eyes at that. "And you actually believed him?"

"Even if he didn't–"

"He doesn't!" Hermione said, glaring at the petrified, fumbling boy. "Ron's got nothing to show for it and I for one can testify that he's got perfectly normal human teeth."

"Me too," Ginny chimed in. "Saw them myself. He takes really good care of them, too. I could almost see my reflection in them."

"Still, Hermione, you've got to admit that he can be quite scary sometimes… most of the time." He sighed. "And he comes from Durmstrang, too. He can probably fire a bunch of banned nonverbal curses and I can barely do basic Transfiguration." He then blushed. His tone dropped to a more timid note. "Also, I… I was going to ask Ginny."

Ginny blinked, shocked. "You were?"

He nodded. "Yea. I mean, if no one's asked you already."

Ginny lowered her copy of _Witch Weekly,_ torn between accepting Neville's invitation or to continue waiting for Harry to ask her. If she refuses Neville now she'd risk going home for the holidays, and Hermione knew that Ginny wanted to go to the ball as badly as she did however much she denied it and tried to conceal it, but Harry was as oblivious as always and Ginny was running out of time. She's still a third year. She's wouldn't be permitted to attend the ball without an invitation from an older student.

She smiled, having finally reached a decision. "Alright, Neville. You've got yourself a date."

"Really?" he asked, shocked that someone actually said yes to him. "I– thanks! I'm going to write to Gran, then, tell her to owl me my dress robes and all." He then turned to Hermione with the same apologetic look from before. "Listen, I–"

She waved off his apologies, giving him her best encouraging smile. "That's alright, Neville, I understand. I'm happy for you two."

He beamed at her. Hermione felt sorry for him but at the same time very happy that Ginny accepted his invitation, even if it was straight after her own got rejected. She knew Neville meant well and that he and Ginny would have a great time together.

"So," began Ginny once Neville left, taking his vacated place next to Hermione, "that's Neville, Seamus, Dean, Collin Creevey…"

Hermione glared at her friend as she continued counting down the names of all the boys that rejected her. They weren't exactly horrible, and they didn't laugh at her as she's always expected them to, but she was still humiliated and she wanted nothing more than crawl into a hole and die, but the Yule Ball was approaching fast and she desperately needed to find a date before she runs into Viktor again.

Sometimes she thinks that she should've just swallowed her pride and accepted Parvati's invitation to London. It would've given her plenty of time to come up with a good plan.

"I'm just saying," said Ginny, flipping to a page in _Witch Weekly_ that featured a close up of a surly looking Viktor, "he's still available last I checked."

Hermione responded by snatching the magazine from Ginny's hands and tossing it into the coffee table.

"You know I really don't get what the big deal is," said Ginny, frowning when Hermione stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and turned towards the fire. "It's just a ball. So what if you're going with Krum? Half the school is expecting it anyway."

"You know exactly why I can't go with him, Ginny," she said, watching the flames dance and break the blackened logs beneath them. "He's one of the champions. Everyone will be there, and the press, it… it says too much, and as you said it's already bad enough that half the school expects it."

"I didn't say it's bad," said Ginny, "I just don't see why you should care about what everyone thinks of you and Krum. You do want to go to the ball, don't you?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, yes, but only because–!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Then just go with him, Hermione! Dance with him for a bit, make him happy, and then come find me and Neville. We'll make sure he doesn't get a moment alone with you."

"But that's not fair for you! You should be able to have fun, too."

Ginny smiled. "What makes you think I wouldn't? Neville and I are going as friends anyway, so having one more friend joining our little party really wouldn't put a damper on our night."

Hermione bit her lip, conflicted still. "I don't know, Ginny."

"Will you at least think about it?"

She smiled. "I- alright, I'll sleep on it. Thank you, Ginny."

Ron found her around suppertime alone in the common room gazing thoughtfully into the fire. Ginny had given up trying to persuade her to eat sometime ago.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, taking note of their mutual friend's absence. Since the Yule Ball's announcement she hasn't seen her two friends apart, adamant as they were to find dates for one another.

"Went to ask Cho for the ball," he said. "Said he'll try, anyway."

"I see." she turned back to the fire. "Well, Ginny's got a date with Neville."

It took him a while to ask. "And you?"

She sighed, then rose to her feet to face him with both her hands resting on her hips. "I'm not going with anyone, Ronald, and I've got you to thank for, don't I?"

He frowned, confused with her thinly veiled aggression. "What did I do?"

" _Fangs,_ Ron?"

"I know what I saw," he said defensively. "Really, Hermione, how long have you known him to take his word over mine?"

"It's not about taking anyone's word. I believe what I see, Ron, and I didn't see fangs!"

"Well obviously he's not going to show you! He must've hidden them, or… or…" his face scrunched up in thought then blanched in fear. Hermione braced herself. "Hermione, he's got you under a spell."

"I don't even want to know how you came up with that."

"You've seen how it is with Veela from the World Cup!" He hissed, gripping her shoulders in a panic. "What about Fleur? What if he's got something similar but stronger because he's a male Veela, and what if he's using it on you right now?"

"First of all, a Veela's gender doesn't determine the strength of its allure," she said bitingly, shrugging his hands off her shoulders. "Second, as it is with being under the influence of a Love Potion, you'd know immediately if I were being seduced by a Veela." Lord knows how many times she had to grit her teeth at the sight of him ignoring her to stare dreamily after a passing Fleur. "Third, me not having a date for the ball has got nothing to do with Viktor and his hypothetical Veela magic, but with _you_ spreading those ridiculous stories about Viktor that got everyone thinking he'd rip their throats in their sleep should they look my way."

"And how do you know it's not true, hmm?"

"Because, Ronald, I wouldn't be on the verge of begging the next boy to take me to the ball if I were, as you put it, under his influence."

"O–oh, right," he mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. "I didn't think of that."

She turned back to the fire with a huff, grabbing the lightest log she could carry from the side to add to the dying flames. Ron was fidgeting behind her. He appeared to be struggling with himself.

Finally he found his courage. He stood up straight. "We– we should go together, then."

In her shock she dropped the log into the flames, sending sparks flying into the air. She slowly turned to face him again, grateful for the light of the fire behind her casting a shadow over her pink cheeks. "Did… did you just ask me to be your date for the ball?"

He averted his eyes and nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Yes. I– I mean, as friends, obviously! Just friends. It'd be silly if we go as… you know." He cleared his throat, his blush deepening. "Right. Anyway, you shouldn't have to go with Krum, and I sort of owe you one–"

" _Sort of_ , Ronald?"

He ignored that. "He'll leave you alone when he sees that you're with someone else– a friend! You wouldn't have to deal with him for a while. It might even help break the spell, you know?"

She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, looking shyly up at him. Never in her wildest dreams did she anticipate this. She had dreamt of many different scenarios, some simple and sweet and others outrageously unrealistic, but she never once thought that he might someday see her in the same light. Who would've known that something good would come out of this whole Veela mess?

She took a deep breath. "Yes. Alright. I accept."

She fought hard to repress the girlish giggle bubbling in her chest. She all but failed to resist the small smile when she saw his.

The next day she went straight to the library after her morning classes. She had the books she purchased for Viktor cradled in her arms. The night before she somehow managed to remember them through her blissful haze and she thought they'd give her an excuse to seek Viktor and to talk to him about the ball. She was no longer obligated to go with him, but he was still a champion and he was expected to attend with a date. The least she could do is give him a heads-up.

He was in a surprisingly good mood when she found him. He was even helping Madam Pince sort out the returned books.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed when he saw her, grinning broadly and collecting her in his arms. "Good morning, my beautiful little luck charm! I missed you."

He bent to kiss her cheek. She yelped and pushed away from him, flushing crimson and quickly shoving the wrapped books at his chest. "H-here! I've got your books."

"Books?" he echoed. He set the package on the nearest table and tore the wrapping. He examined his three selections with a frown. "I did not buy these."

"Y-yes, well, I saw you looking at them and I thought I might as well, since I was the one that forced you out of the shop." She confessed, averting her eyes to one of the books laid on the table.

"How much did you pay for them?"

"That's alright, Viktor, they're on me," she said without thinking, then silently chided herself when she heard him gasp. "Consider it an early Christmas present, is what I meant!" she quickly added, only instead of mending the situation she just dug herself a deeper hole.

She looked up at him and her guilt nearly tore her in two. He looked so surprised and so happy that she almost ran up to the common room to cancel her date with Ron. It was like watching a little boy unwrap a toy he's always wanted that she accidentally bought and now must return.

"No one is buying me anything before," he said reverently, taking both her hands in his. "Thank you, Hermione."

He got down on one knee before she could respond or attempt to slip her hands free, immediately sending her brain into a full-blown panic. This is definitely not how she imagined getting proposed to. In the middle of a library? Perhaps. When she's only halfway through her education and by a person she barely knows? Most definitely _not,_ Veela killer heartbreak be damned!

"Are you out of your mind?!" she shrieked, attempting to yank him back on his feet. "You can't, Viktor! You- you're too _young,_ I'm- _I'm_ only fifteen!"

He continued staring adoringly up at her, completely unfazed by her hissing commands and hysteric gestures. She was about to beg him to get back up on his feet, cry even if that's all it takes, but then he silenced her by pressing his lips to her knuckles. "Please. Hermione, I am begging you. Let me buy you a gift. Is only fair, no? You buy me something nice, you make me happy, so now I must make you happy by buying you something nice but you don't let me. So now I will beg until you say Yes."

She stifled a sigh of relief. So he was pleading his case, a little _too_ literally for her taste, but pleading and _not_ proposing. That's one less thing to worry about. For now.

 _He really is like a lead of a soap opera,_ she thought with amusement, thinking back on all the sappy specials her aunts loved to watch on repeat.

"You can start by getting back up on your feet," she said.

He obeyed with a grin. "What else? I want to buy you something. I will buy you everything! I will buy you this library–"

"There's no need for that!" she interjected. "I don't think you can, anyway, but please don't try to."

He scoffed, looking a little offended. "Of course I can. I can do anything! I will do anything for you. I will buy this school for you, even if–"

"There's one thing you can do that will definitely make me happy," she said, stepping around him to return the last returned books to their rightful places on the shelves behind him.

"What?" he asked eagerly, hurrying after her. "Tell me. I will do it now!"

She turned to him with a smile. "Please try not to get bankrupt by the end of the year. Do that for me and I will be the happiest girl in the world."

"My finances are good," he scoffed. "You are not telling me what you want."

"Yes, I am! I honestly care about your finances. I never want you to empty your vaults for me. In fact I'm perfectly happy with I've got."

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed. "Ok, I will not buy you libraries. I will buy you something else, something nice and small to wear for ball. Will you accept it?"

She bristled at that. Did he simply _assume_ that she'd just go with him without first getting an invitation? _Never mind that, it doesn't matter now!_ She chided herself. _It's now or never, Hermione. He deserves to know._

"Viktor, about the ball," she started, looking nervously up at him and trying not to gnaw on her bottom lip just yet. "I… I was… are you taking anyone?"

He looked at her as if she just grew a second head. "You are ok, Hermione?"

She flushed under his scrutinising gaze. "Y-yes, perfectly well! I'm just curious. I heard that you've turned down all invitations and I was wondering if you were going at all." Technically it wasn't a lie. No one told her but she did hear girls crying about him and cursing her when they thought she was out of hearing range.

He chuckled. "I have to go, Hermione, I am a champion. And I am saying No to other girls because I am taking you, silly girl."

 _Here we go…._

"Here's the thing, Viktor." She took a deep breath, steadying her guilt against his glowingly happy face that will shatter the moment she utters the words. "I'm going with someone else."

He looked like he had just been stabbed in the gut. He leaned back against the shelves, shocked and pained beyond comprehension. "Someone else? Who?"

"Viktor, I'm so sorry, he– he asked me first," she said, reaching out for him on reflex but then quickly withdrawing her hands. "I– I thought you'd say Yes to one of the girls that asked you."

"What, other girls? Hermione, I asked you first!" he said, pushing himself off the shelves and standing straight again, the fight in him reignited. "I asked you before all boys!"

"No you didn't!" she said hotly. "I haven't seen you since McGonagall's announcement."

"I asked before, and you said Yes!" he insisted. "Before announcement, after the first task. I remember. You come to my bed and I asked you and you said Yes. We talked about dress robes, but I am not remembering what color you said you wanted." He then frowned, muttering more to himself than to her: "I think there was also a bunny wearing purple robes called Poopy, but maybe I was dreaming that."

"Viktor, we never talked about dress robes! All I did that day was–" she froze. She suddenly remembered him saying something to her in his native tongue and then later muttering in his sleep about dress robes. "Oh. I understand now."

He smiled triumphantly. "Good. Now go tell other boy you are not going with him."

"I will do no such thing!" she snapped. "And you're right about one thing. You did ask me, but I never said Yes. Rather, I didn't _know_ that you asked me. You were completely out of it by the time I got to you. You made no sense whatsoever! You kept switching from English to Bulgarian and I think you might've even said a few things in Swedish."

"But… I… we talked…" he fumbled with himself, running his fingers through his hair and thinking and groping hopelessly for anything that could turn the situation around.

He looked afraid but unwilling to accept the fact that Hermione wasn't going with him and once again the sight of his struggle made her reconsider her decision. She was beginning to regret ignoring Ginny's offer, and was starting to think that she may have put too much value on a school dance. So what if the world was watching? They talk about her all they want as it is. And Viktor is harmless, albeit persistent and infuriating with his devotion. He's never once stepped out of line.

She opened her mouth, ready to declare that she's had a change of heart, but then he stopped and narrowed his eyes. The anxiety and hurt on his face was replaced by something so furiously sinister that it made Hermione instantly swallow her words and take a step back.

"Weasley," he growled, the sound coming out more animalistic than normal. Her eyes flickered to the row of gritted teeth behind his parted lips. Still human.

"This has nothing to do with Ron!" she lied, spreading her arms out in front of him to block his path. "What made you even think that?"

"Bigger Weasley," he spat. "Dragon Keeper. He is making me take potion when I told him I don't need it and now another boy is taking you to the ball because I thought I asked you first. He cost me my mate. He will pay with his blood!"

He marched past her towards the exit, leaving her momentarily stunned and frozen. He wouldn't actually…?

She hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. "Wait, Viktor, what do you mean by that? How is he going to pay by blood?"

"I am saying I will beat him so hard he will bleed," he explained, staring ahead with a determined look set firmly in his black eyes.

"No you won't!" she grabbed his arm and somehow managed to stop him. "How could you say such things? Charlie was only trying to help! You were hurt, Viktor, and he helped you get better. Is this how you plan on repaying him, by beating him to a bloody pulp?"

He paused, taking in her words. He seemed to be struggling with his guilt and rage. Finally he said: "ok, you are right. I will not beat him. I will beat his brothers."

"They've got nothing to do with this, either! I won't let you harm them."

"Ok, fine!" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Only because you are asking me. I only care about you. Everyone else? They are annoying." He then beamed, having just come up with an idea. "I will write Weasley a letter."

Hermione frowned. "A letter?"

He nodded, striding towards the closest empty desk and summoning his pick from the library's stock of parchment rolls and quills. Hermione stopped herself just as she was about to chastise him for it. "Yes. It will be very angry and it will have many naughty words. I don't know in English so I will write in Bulgarian and confuse him."

She quickly snatched the parchment from under his quill just as he finished writing his opening in English. _Dear Weasley, I hate you._

"Hey, give it back!" he grabbed the paper and attempted to yank it free from her grasp but she tightened her hold and snatched it back. "Hermione, I am not finished."

"And you won't be, ever," she said, tearing the short letter in two. "He helped heal you, Viktor, and you're being unfair and awfully rude towards him."

"I don't need his help–"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, because you can supposedly do anything! The point is you're being very rude and ungrateful and he of all people doesn't deserve it. It's not his fault you didn't think of confirming anything with me afterwards, and it's certainly not the end of the world if we don't go together." He huffed in response and folded his arms over his chest. He scowled at the table. She glared at him. "Oh come on now, it's just a stupid dance!"

"Is important to me," he muttered under his breath.

She faltered, her guilt overriding her own anger and frustration in an instant. Had she gone too far? She had meant to break it gently to him, or as gently as she could, and had planned on keeping her cool no matter what or how he reacts.

"Right," she said after an awkward silence. "W-well, I better get going."

He didn't respond or ask why she was leaving or where she was going. He continued sulking in silence, looking gloomier than ever. She was halfway towards the exit when her overwhelming guilt finally produced tears in her eyes. She stopped to wipe them off before turning back towards him. He regarded her with mild curiosity as she stood next to him, no doubt looking as utterly lost and nervous as she felt.

She steeled her nerves. _It's just a hug,_ she reminded herself. _You've hugged Harry and Ron many times before. This is nothing different. Just another purely platonic, friendly hug._ She managed to get her arm to hover over his shoulders before her resolve crumbled. _What if he misunderstands?_ The arm hanging awkwardly over his shoulders was increasing his confusion. _Too late to turn back now,_ she decided, then took a deep breath and allowed her arm to drop limply over his shoulders.

He raised a brow. She prayed for death. _This has got to be the most awkward situation I've ever been in._

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

"I am obviously trying to comfort you," she huffed, then stopped. _Gently,_ she reminded herself. "Er… is it working?"

He thought about it. "I am confused."

"Yes, I figured you'd be," she said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm usually very good at this."

"What is this you are trying to do?"

She averted her eyes, fighting down a blush. "W-well, I'm trying to hug you. That's usually how friends comfort each other when they're upset." She was surprised to hear him chuckle. "What?"

"You are bad at this," he said with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

She glared at him. "I'm doing the best I can."

"Here, I teach you."

"Teach–" she yelped when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap in one quick motion, causing her to throw her arms around his neck for support. "Viktor, what–" she blushed when she felt him burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhale deeply. She placed her hands on his shoulders and attempted to push herself back but his arms were like steel around her. "Now wait just one–"

"Five minutes," he whined.

She narrowed her eyes. "One."

"Four."

"One."

"Three and a half."

"One."

"Ok, just three."

"One minute, Viktor."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. "One and a half?"

She bit her lip. "Oh… alright. Just this once!"

He happily resumed his position. She gave him an extra minute to ease her guilt some more. She cleared her throat and detached herself from his loosening grip when she found that her fingers had started running through his hair out of their own accord.

"I really have to go now," she said, smoothing down her skirt in an attempt to avoid his eyes. "Are you feeling any better?"

He gave her a small smile. "Little bit, yes."

" _Little?"_

He shrugged. "I will be very happy if you give me five minutes, but you only give me two, so I am only a little better." He grinned. "But if you are changing your mind now…"

She smiled despite her best efforts. "You'll live."

By suppertime Viktor was sulking again. Malfoy had managed find himself a seat next to him. He was babbling nonstop about who knows what but the champion didn't seem to be paying him any attention. He was nodding along but his eyes were glued to his full plate and the pattern his spoon was drawing. The only thing he seemed to be consuming was the content of his goblet. Hermione liked to think that it's nothing alcoholic.

"Luna told me he tried asking the Grey Lady," said Ginny, following her line of view.

"Ghost of Ravenclaw?" she asked, tearing her eyes from Viktor to look incredulously at her friend. "Surely he'd have no problem finding a date in anyone else?" _Anyone living._

She shrugged.

"He's just trying to guilt you into going with him," grumbled Ron to Hermione, stabbing a piece of roasted potato a little harder than necessary. "I'm telling you, Hermione, he's mental."

"And did she say Yes, the Grey Lady?" asked Harry before Hermione could form a response, shocked yet slightly impressed.

Ginny snorted. "She yelled at him."

"Wonderful," grumbled Hermione under her breath, dropping her fork into her plate and rising to her feet.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron, about to follow her himself.

"To talk to Fleur for a bit. I won't be long."

Ron sat back down without another word of protest, his face flushed red. Hermione frowned, then shook her head and proceeded on her way to the Ravenclaw table. Fleur was sitting at her usual place at the edge of the table talking animatedly in French to one of her classmates, a rather beautiful strawberry blonde girl with blue eyes and dimples. Hermione cleared her throat to get the Veela's attention, suddenly nervous and very much conscious of her plain looks compared to the beauties of Beauxbatons.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't see you there!" Fleur exclaimed, quickly scooting over to give Hermione room to sit. "I did not know your houses are allowed to mix during meal times."

"Thanks," she muttered, sliding into place next to her, "and they usually don't. I was just wondering if I could talk to you for a moment."

"But of course!" she turned to face her fully with a friendly pearly smile already drawn on her face.

Hermione blinked, then shook her head. She wasn't expecting Fleur to be so… well, friendly. "Right. Thank you. You see, I have a few questions about my… _condition."_

Fleur's neatly plucked blonde eyebrows were drawn together. "Condition?" Hermione nodded towards Viktor. Recognition flashed in Fleur's eyes. "Ah, of course, of course! I understand, but I told you before. I don't know many things. I'm not sure if I can help you anymore than I already tried."

"Yes, and I'm very grateful for the information you provided." _However useless it proved to be._ "I just… you once mentioned that your family from your maternal grandmother's side are all Veela." She nodded in affirmation. "I was just wondering if I could perhaps write to your grandmother sometime? With her permission, of course!" she quickly added.

Fleur was surprisingly fine with it. A little taken aback, but otherwise fine with the request. "Huh. I never thought of asking Mèmè." She then smiled. "I will write to her tonight."

Hermione smiled back gratefully. "Thank you, Fleur." She glanced at Fleur's friend who has been silently watching the exchange the entire time. Hermione gave her a smile and extended her hand. "Hermione Granger."

She smiled and shook Hermione's hand. "Claudette Lafontaine."

Her voice resembled the sound emitted by tiny bells, sweet to one's ears and not at all loud and obnoxious. For some reason that made the following words difficult to utter: "I don't mean to be so intrusive, but have you got a date for the Yule Ball?"

She giggled. "Why, have you found me a boy that doesn't ask and then run?"

Fleur rolled her eyes at that. Hermione choose to ignore it. "Well, I know Viktor doesn't have a date."

Her giggles were cut short. She exchanged a shocked, wide-eyed look with Fleur. "Viktor Krum?"

Hermione nodded, the odd sinking feeling in her stomach growing by the second. "Have you tried asking him?"

Claudette glanced over her shoulders at the sulking athlete at the table behind them then turned back to Hermione with an even more astonished look on her angelic face. "You don't mind?"

She snorted. "Not at all. I wouldn't be asking you if I did."

"But I thought–" again she glanced back at Viktor. "–I thought you two would go together."

"I'm going with a friend."

She looked uncertain and slightly suspicious. Hermione gave her the best encouraging smile she could muster. "It's alright, I promise."

"I… I guess I should try," she said. "But you are sure it's ok?"

 _No._ "Positive."

Finally she gave her a small laugh. "Well, if you insist!"

Claudette opened the clasp of her purse to retrieve a small compact mirror and lipstick. The color was a beautiful vibrant red that worked so well with her skin tone and hair. Once again Hermione felt conscious of her own looks in comparison, and how she can never even attempt to look remotely decent in such a daring colour.

Hermione returned to her seat next to Ginny just as Claudette sauntered towards Viktor. He didn't look up from his plate even as she sat next to him, but that didn't seem to deter her. She said what Hermione assumed to be her invitation and Viktor responded by stubbornly giving her his back. For a tiny, confusing moment Hermione felt relieved, but then Claudette said something that made Viktor smile ever so slightly. She gave Hermione a wide grin and a thumbs up when she caught her staring at them.

For the rest of the hour Hermione picked at her food. She was grateful that her friends were too distracted to pay her much attention, but at the same time she wanted at least Ginny to notice. Her heart was heavy all of a sudden and she wanted to know why but at the same time she was afraid. She looked at Ron talking to Dean with a mouth full of pudding. Could it be that he was right about Viktor? Was it possible that she was under some kind of a spell? _No,_ she decided. He can't be. If she was under any kind of spell she'd be experiencing blind rage, or maybe even the uncontrollable urge to harm Claudette. She wouldn't be sad.

* * *

A/N: Hi. Please don't hate me. There is still a ball to cover!


	7. Chapter 7

"The nerve of that hag!" said Lavender indignantly, yanking her robes out of her closet and slamming the door shut. "First she steals Viktor from you–"

"He wasn't stolen," Hermione corrected from her place on the vanity. "I asked her to ask him."

"And he said yes!" she threw her robes onto her bed and started undressing. "How _dare_ he, that two-timing son of a–"

"What Lav is trying to say is," Parvati cut in, pulling her long elaborate braid out of the wrappings of her sari, "however innocent his intentions may be, hers are most definitely not. I mean why should she care about his favorite color or scent?"

Hermione struggled to hide her discomfort. She busied herself with her make-up as Ginny worked diligently on her hair. "What was I supposed to do? She asked nicely."

" _Nicely_!" Lavender repeated incredulously. "Oh, if I were you Hermione I'd just– I'd grab her hair and– you know, I'd– _argh!_ " she clawed aggressively at nothing in particular. "Muss up that pretty little face of hers, I would!"

The corner of Hermione's lips quirked in appreciation. She had only seen this fierce, protective side of Lavender around Parvati. It warmed her heart knowing that another girl besides Ginny is looking out for her, however foreign and uncomfortable the notion can be at times. "Thank you, Lavender. But to be fair Viktor and I aren't dating so it's not up to me to decide when or if they should take their relationship to the next level."

Parvati snorted. "As if we'll let them get that far! What kind of friends would we be if we just stood there and watched that French poodle take what's rightfully yours?"

"The kind that would mind their own business and respect their friend's decision," Ginny retorted before Hermione could, putting too much emphasis on the word 'friend'. She was scowling into Hermione's hair when she spoke again in a voice too low for either Lavender or Parvati to hear: "would've loved to see that devotion the many times Pansy Parkinson and her cohorts had a go at you."

The reminder stung Hermione. She knew Ginny meant well, but she's been hurting since Viktor accepted Claudette's invitation and not even the prospect of going as Ron's date made her feel any better. Parvati and Lavender's determination to hate and cuss at Claudette whenever the opportunity presented itself helped a little, however misplaced and petty it seemed even to her. She's never had a group of girls watching her back. The numbers made her feel safe. She was lucky to have had Ginny all this time and she's always appreciated her friendship, but they were really only made aware of each other's existence through Hermione's friendship with Ron and sometimes she can't help bit wonder if they'd still be friends without Ron or Harry in the picture.

Parvati wasn't pleased with Ginny's tone. "We're only looking out for her, you know. We want what's best for her and everyone knows that Viktor Krum is the best there is, not Ron bloody Weasley." Ginny stiffened. Parvati smiled sweetly. "No offence."

Hermione stilled the fiery Weasley by placing a firm hand on top of hers. Ginny's patience has become as fragile and dangerous as that of a ticking bomb ever since she heard that Parvati scored a date with Harry Potter. Never mind that she and Lavender had also forced their way into Hermione's good graces, Parvati had just insulted _family_ and Ginny would normally have none of it. However often she quarreled with her brothers such a crime was still punishable by a good Bat Bogey hex, but they were to meet their dates soon and the last thing Hermione wanted to deal with besides the ball itself was confused, frightened bats shooting out of Parvati's nostrils.

"Ginny's right," said Hermione, relieved to see Ginny relax a tad. "I appreciate the thought, but honestly I don't mind them dating. Like I said, _I_ was the one that got them to go together." She took a deep breath. She released Ginny's hand when she felt it safe to do so and turned back towards the mirror. "And I think it'd be for the best if they _do_ end up together by the end of this, for… for everyone."

Ginny caught her eyes in the mirror, having finally understood the plan. She looked as confident with its success as Hermione felt, which wasn't saying much as a huge part of her was still secretly praying for it to fail.

 _It's the only way,_ she reminded herself, putting down the unidentifiable make-up brush she's been toying with. _If he starts fancying Claudette, he'll… he'll…_

Tears stung her eyes before she could complete the thought. She quickly blinked them away whilst Ginny fussed over her hair and while Lavender and Parvati got ready in the back. _Nothing to cry about,_ she thought stubbornly. It's silly! She has simply gotten used to his presence after her initial fear of his sudden and overwhelming infatuation subsided. Having a girlfriend would surely distract him enough from seeking her in the library, and even she will admit that he's good company when he's not desperately trying to woo her.

"Are you two finished?" asked Parvati, coming to stand next to Ginny. She looked beautiful in her bright pink sari and golden bracelets.

"Oh, yes, I suppose," said Hermione, moving to get up from the vanity.

Lavender appeared by Ginny's other side in a flash. She placed one hand on Hermione's shoulder and forced her back on her seat. "Excuse me, little missy, but what part of 'we're not letting that French poodle get away with the Bulgarian bombshell' did you not understand?"

"…all of it?"

Parvati rolled her eyes. She picked the elaborate braid Ginny decorated with small white flowers between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a disapproving look. "Hermione, you're only going to the biggest Ball _ever_. I know you don't really like putting any effort into your looks but won't you at least try _,_ if only for tonight?"

Ginny flushed. "Will you let her be, if only for tonight? Nobody asked or cared about your opinion on anything anyway–"

"Honestly, darling, you call _this_ make-up?" Lavender cut in, gripping Hermione's chin and turning her head sideways to get a better look. "A blush and a clear lip balm don't count, not even for a casual outing with the girls. Have you ever actually worn anything resembling make-up?"

"Of course I– _ouch!"_ Hermione slapped her hand away and rubbed the prickling spot Lavender's manicured nails pierced. She glared at the two girls' reflection. "Will you two stop it already and tell me what this is all about?"

Parvati pushed Ginny out of the way and started undoing Hermione's braid. "This is about us taking over. You clearly need help if you think you can outdo that hag with this rather pathetic attempt."

"I'm not trying to–!"

Ginny rounded on Parvati, looking absolutely furious and just barely holding her fists from colliding with the girl's face. "She doesn't want your help! She was doing just fine without you."

"Then she clearly doesn't know what she wants," said Lavender as she retrieved her own make-up bag and knelt before Hermione, making sure to pull her purple dress over her knees and off the floor. "But don't you worry, we'll take care of everything! We'll make sure he regrets this for the rest of the evening, or at least until he comes to his senses and dumps the poodle." Here she and Parvati exchanged devilish grins.

"Wait!" she blurted just as Ginny opened her mouth either to insult, challenge, or curse both girls. Hermione wouldn't put it past Ginny to cast her Bat Bogey hex nonverbally.

Ginny looked pleased, assuming that Hermione would once again take her side and politely decline Lavender and Parvati's assistance, but little did she know the witch in question was actually having second thoughts. Hermione's eyes had landed on her reflection in the mirror and something within her emerged, a strange desire she never knew she possessed. The Hermione staring back at her was the same plain bushy-haired bookworm she's always known. The soft periwinkle blue dress she wore was as beautiful as it was when she first saw it in Diagon Alley early in September. She hadn't known it's purpose at the time so she didn't bother trying it on, but now that she's wearing it she can finally see that many ways the simple material gave her the traditional feminine appeal she's always seen on covers of Muggle fashion magazines, except it was incomplete. The dress aside, she was still rule-abiding Hermione Jean Granger, the smartest witch of her age and the brains of the Golden Trio. For once she didn't want to be that Hermione. She wanted to turn heads for reasons other than her association with Harry.

She swallowed. "Ginny, I… I'd like to see what Lavender and Parvati have in mind. Please."

Ginny slumped, looking utterly betrayed. Hermione did her best to convey exactly how sorry she felt, but Ginny merely tossed the brush into the vanity and grabbed her clutch. "Fine then. I've got to go find Neville anyway."

Hermione flinched when Ginny slammed the door behind her. She was about to drop everything and run after her but then Lavender and Parvati started twittering around her and tugging at her hair and applying things Hermione couldn't quite name. Before she knew it she was being transformed into an entirely different being and for the first time in weeks she was starting to anticipate going to the ball.

Lavender and Parvati insisted that they go after the common room clears up, something about being 'fashionably late' that Hermione didn't really agree with. Parvati was especially excited about partnering with one of the champions, with none other than Harry Potter himself, and she'd be damned if she didn't make him wait for a grand entrance. Hermione was tempted to tell her that he only asked her because Cedric got to Cho before he could, but Parvati glowed so prettily that Hermione didn't have the heart to break it to her just yet. She hoped that Harry at least would have the decency to try to make her feel special tonight.

Hermione froze at the foot of the stairs as Lavender and Parvati went ahead of her in search of their dates. She caught a group of Durmstrang students in their traditional burgundy robes with the grey fur-lined cloaks and she couldn't help but stop and stare. It didn't take long for her eyes to find Viktor's. He was dressed in the exact same manner as his peers but he still stood out amongst them and it had nothing to do with him being a champion or a professional athlete. He was staring at her in a way that no one ever did before, in a way that she never dreamed any boy would. He was staring at her as if he's never seen anything more beautiful until this very moment.

He excused himself from his peers and approached her, not once taking his eyes off her. She smiled when he took her hand in his and bowed low to kiss her knuckles.

"Hello there," she greeted softly.

"You look wonderful," he said. His smile made her blush and fight down an embarrassing girly giggle from erupting from her chest. Had he always looked so handsome? She couldn't help but wonder why it took her this long to notice.

"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself. In fact–"

"There you are!"

Claudette's cheerful, bell-like voice was the needle that popped their magical little bubble. Hermione felt like she had just received a hard, painful shove. She quickly slipped her hand from Viktor's as Claudette emerged from the crowd in all her nymph-like glory. Her strawberry blonde hair was curled to perfection and her make-up as bright and bold as the rest of her. Hermione noticed that she wore stilettos but still managed to walk gracefully in them, and that she also had a rather impressive cleavage. Hermione's eyes dropped to her own small breasts for comparison only to be met with disappointment at the mounds that just barely saved her from being completely flat-chested.

That wasn't even the worst of it. There was the dress that was the exact same shade of periwinkle blue as Hermione's, except Claudette's was the figure-hugging type while Hermione's was more delicate and floaty. Hermione thought it looked better on Claudette, for she was older and taller and curvier while Hermione looked like a little girl stumbling in her mother's heels and drowning in her tent-like dress.

"Ooh, is this for me?" Claudette squealed delightfully. Hermione saw a small glass box in Viktor's free hand containing a rose. Claudette grabbed the box before Viktor could answer and opened the clasp at the front. "Oh my! It's so beautiful, Viktor. Thank you!" She stood on her toes to plant an obnoxiously loud kiss on his cheek.

Hermione's nails dug into her clutch. For a moment she contemplated throwing it at the French girl's pretty blooming face, but then she looked at Viktor and saw that he was avoiding looking at her altogether. He appeared embarrassed and uncomfortable and she couldn't decide if it was with her or with Claudette, but either way it was becoming too dangerous for her to linger so she turned away from the couple and walked straight into the sea of attendees in search of her friends and her date. She didn't want to see any more of them and she most certainly didn't want to hear whatever comments Claudette would make about her hair or dress or make-up.

She took a moment to calm herself when she was far enough. She wiped the few treacherous angry tears and then hastily checked the state of her make-up in the compact mirror Lavender shoved into her clutch. All was in perfect order, save for her flushed cheeks. A bit of powder might've helped, but she had stubbornly and foolishly tossed the one Lavender gave her onto her bed back in their shared dormitory.

She found Ginny, Neville, Ron, Harry, and Parvati huddled together near the entrance. Harry was the first to notice her. His eyes widened in shock when he finally recognised her and she smiled despite her soured mood.

"Hi Harry," she greeted, timidly standing next to a wide-eyed Ron.

"Mione, you look…" he shook his head, then grinned. "Wonderful. You look absolutely wonderful."

Somehow the compliment didn't make her feel as happy as when Viktor said it. She quickly shoved the thought aside.

"It was nothing," said Parvati nonchalantly, although she did look immensely proud of herself.

"Oh, come off it!" said Ginny, offering Parvati a forced yet approving smile. "You did great. She looks fantastic."

Hermione hesitated. "So you're not mad at me?"

Ginny's grin was reassuring enough. "What can I say? For once those two actually did something right. And really, you _do_ look amazing. Doesn't she, Ron?"

It was only then Hermione remembered Ron standing next to her. It came as a slight shock to her not only because the mere thought of going on a date with him used to send her into a giggling, blushing frenzy, but also because he was really hard not to notice with the ridiculously elaborate patterns and frills on his old, traditional dress robes. He was flushed red and he looked absolutely flustered with himself. Hermione felt giddy at the thought of being responsible for sending him into that state, even though his response to Ginny's question was a stuttered comment about new dress robes.

The gates to the Great Hall were opened. The champions and their dates were lead towards the staff table to sit by the judges while the rest took their places on the tables below. Hermione was seated between Ron and Ginny and conversations were alive all around her but every now and then she'd find herself looking towards the judge's table. Neville caught her a few times and asked if she was worried about Harry. She couldn't tell if he was able to see right through her but she lied anyway and said that she was.

Viktor and Claudette appeared to be engaged in a pleasant conversation, so much so that they hardly touched their food. Claudette said or asked about something that made Viktor respond in a silly elaborate gesture that sent the French girl into a delicate yet uncontrollable giggling fit. At some point she felt confident enough to place a hand on his wrist. Viktor smiled at Claudette over the rim of his cup. Hermione had all but lost her appetite.

 _This is good. Let them fall for each other. This is what you want, isn't it?_

Dumbledore cleared the tables and chairs to make room for a proper, more spacious dance floor. The champions and their dates were ushered to participate in the opening dance. Harry looked like he was leading but it was obvious that Parvati was doing most of the work. Cedric and Cho were stuck in their own bubble. Fleur's date could've been a horribly animated mannequin as far as anyone could tell. Viktor and Claudette were stealing the show. They looked like the dancing pair from a vintage music box, mesmerising and perfectly in sync with each other. Viktor effortlessly twirled her and lifted her off her feet in tune with the music and she threw her head back and laughed in that sweet, careless way that turned heads all around them. It was so contagious that even Viktor couldn't seem to stop himself from grinning.

The rose he had given her earlier was fastened around her wrist. Hermione noticed that the colour matched his school robes. None of the other champions presented their dates with such tokens, not even Cedric Diggory for all his doting. She then started wondering what it'd be like if _she_ had been the one dancing with Viktor. She pictured herself being held and twirled and lifted by those strong, able arms. He had tried hugging her many times in the past but she was always so quick to shove him away, never once allowing herself to properly feel his arms enclosing her to his chest.

She distinctly heard Ron scolding Collin Creevey for nearly blinding him with his camera's flash, to which the boy responded by saying that he's only doing it for the school as the photographer assigned for the task had mysteriously disappeared hours before the ceremony and they couldn't possibly find a replacement on such short notice, and on Christmas day no less. Hermione was certain that Collin was enjoying the task nonetheless, as he seemed to be taking pictures of random things rather than the champions themselves or even the staff and judges.

She grabbed Ron's hand and dragged him into the dance floor the minute she noticed other students filing in with their dates. She didn't want to think about Viktor or Claudette or how upsetting the sight of the two of them dancing happily together made her feel. She wanted to dance with Ron and forget all about Veela curses. She wanted to do exactly what she came here to do, and that is to let herself go for once and to truly have fun with the boy she likes.

It worked for quite some time. Ron was a surpassingly decent dancer. Her teasing him about it drew a grin on his face and lifted the awkward, tense air around them. He joked about the state of his shabby robes compared to hers and she giggled in response. By the time she felt brave enough to cast a glance around herself the dance floor had gotten so crowded that Viktor and Claudette were lost in a sea of dancers.

 _That or they snuck out for some privacy in the bushes._

The song changed and couples switched partners. Hermione was relieved to find herself dancing with Harry, even though he looked absolutely winded and very much ready to retire for the night.

"Thank Merlin it's you," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Hermione grinned. "Having fun?"

"I will when this ball ends."

She smacked his arm. "Be nice. Parvati was looking forward to tonight. She spent all day getting ready. She also helped me with my hair."

"Since when were you two friends?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just be nice. Please, Harry?" she gave him the best puppy-eye look she could muster, courtesy of Viktor's many attempts. "I know you'd rather dance with Cho instead, but I owe Parvati and I really want her to have a good time tonight."

Harry didn't look happy with the idea of entertaining Parvati for the whole evening as she parades him around the ballroom like some show dog, but he promised Hermione he'd try anyway. It wasn't much but it's the best she'd get.

Her heightened spirits were plummeted once again when she found herself facing Claudette as her new dancing partner. The French girl laughed and grabbed Hermione's hand and twirled her into the sea of dancers before she could so much as utter a protest.

"It is about time I say!" she declared gaily as Hermione stumbled in her efforts to match the taller girl's pace. "After all, we are matching tonight!" She then looked at Hermione and with a dismissive shrug she added: "our colours, at least."

Hermione scowled. She tried getting out of the dance but Claudette was surprisingly strong and she was moving too fast. She didn't even seem to notice Hermione's discomfort.

And she wasn't content with staying quiet until the next switch, much to Hermione's chagrin. "But you do look nice. You really should spend more time on your looks, Hermy-own!"

"It's Hermione!"

She responded by laughing again. "Well I guess it's not worth the effort when your own date doesn't try, no?"

Hermione couldn't help the biting remark. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Me? Oh _non,_ Viktor has been a perfect gentleman! I was talking about _your_ date."

Hermione grit her teeth, her patience and will to humour Claudette waning by the second. "Not all of us can afford nice things."

"Of course. At least he knows his place, which is good."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, that is a scary face!" she said in mock horror, giggling. Hermione purposely stepped on her foot. She didn't even bother hiding her smirk when Claudette grimaced in pain. "You are misunderstanding me. I'm just saying I'm glad he didn't wait for Fleur's answer. She's nicer than me, but he would still be embarrassed. Well, more embarrassed than he already was!"

Hermione frowned, her curiosity momentarily clouding her anger. "Why was Ron embarrassed?"

Claudette raised a brow, her smile faltering. "You don't know?"

Something told her that she wouldn't want to, but she pressed on anyway. "I don't think I do."

"Oh," she breathed, averting her eyes and taking her lower lip between her teeth. "I was not supposed to say anything."

"Well now you absolutely _must_ tell me!" Hermione insisted as they slowed to a stop near the edge of the dance floor. She gripped Claudette's elbows to prevent her from escaping. "What did Ron do?"

"Oh… Alright. I will tell you but you must promise me you will not say anything to Fleur."

"Of course, I promise! Now tell me what happened."

"He asked Fleur to be his date to the ball but then he got embarrassed and ran away before she could answer him. It was funny but nothing to worry about!"

Hermione's grip loosened. "And…would you happen to remember when that happened?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe a few days before you asked me to ask Viktor?"

"I…I see."

Claudette frowned. She grabbed Hermione's wrist to still her and placed her free hand on her forehead. The smell of Viktor's rose alerted her to the fact that Claudette was talking again. "Are you sick, Hermy-own? You don't look so good."

"F-fine! I'm fine!" she said, quickly detaching herself and looking away from the French girl's concerned face. "I'm just… tired. Need a break. Too much dancing. Excuse me."

She found the emptiest, farthest table and leaned towards it with her palms pressed flat against the surface. She closed her eyes and took long, deep breaths to calm herself but her eyes burned still behind her lids and the lump in her throat only seemed to grow. She tried not to think about the new information Claudette provided, but all at once her mind was screaming at her to cry and to march right back over there and shout all kinds of obscenities at Ron, her supposed friend and date.

 _He_ did _say you were only going as friends,_ the weakened logical part of her urged. And she agreed with it, except she was still deeply hurt and she wanted him to know that she knows so that he'd feel just as embarrassed and stupid as she felt. She knows that she doesn't have what it takes to be anyone's first choice, but to think that for one tiny moment that she had been _Ron's_ when he really only approached her because the Veela of his dreams didn't want anything to do with him.

 _And he had the nerve to make me feel bad about liking Viktor!_

Her eyes shot open. Both hands flew to her mouth, as if to prevent the thought from escaping and making its way to every single pair of ears in the room. She felt her cheeks burning, either from that very random thought or from the idea of _anyone_ catching wind of it.

"Hermione?"

Apparently she could summon him by thought without meaning to. Wonderful.

She took a moment to compose herself and to discreetly check for any stray tears. When she felt confident she turned to Viktor and found that he was standing closer than she had anticipated. She would've been flustered with the proximity combined with her previous thoughts and with his searching, concerned eyes, but then she saw the large bowl of Butterbeer cream cradled in his hands and she couldn't help but smile.

"Your metabolism must be incredible," she said.

He grinned. She felt that he didn't really understand what she meant and was merely happy that she put him and 'incredible' in one sentence. "That is correct. I am incredible everything."

"You're supposed to have that with Butterbeer," she said, picking up a glass behind her and a small spoon. She scooped a generous amount from his bowl and plopped it on top of the drink before offering it to him. "Like that."

Viktor eyed the drink, then took the spoon from her hand and proceeded to scoop the cream from the bowl and straight into his mouth. "This is better. See?" at that he scooped some more into the spoon and then proceeded to prod the edge against her lips.

She was about to comply but then she remembered that it had been in his mouth first. She gently pushed his hand back. "I'm alright, thank you."

He shrugged then continued shoveling more cream into his mouth, but he didn't get to enjoy his desert for long. Madam Pince had found him and she was quick to snatch the bowl from his hands.

"I told you to return that an hour ago!" she scolded, holding the bowl behind her back and out of his reach when he tried to grab it again. "For the last time, Mr. Krum, I will ask you to behave yourself or else _you know what_!" whatever she had threatened him with earlier had worked as he immediately stopped trying. Madam Pince then turned to Hermione with a friendly smile. "You're looking absolutely stunning tonight, Miss Granger."

Hermione beamed at her. "Thank you, Madam Pince."

Viktor scowled at her retreating back. "I hate that woman."

"What did she threaten you with?"

"She is saying she will not allow me to come in the library again."

"Do you really like it that much?"

"We have good library on ship. I only go here because you go."

"R-right, well, that's–that's–" she cleared her throat then shoved the Butterbeer cup at his now empty hands. "H-here, something to curb your sweet tooth."

"Is not sweet tooth, Hermione," he said with a sigh. "I am hungry."

"You didn't get to eat?"

"No," he grumbled. "Claudette talks too much. She is asking too many questions, not giving me time to eat."

"I'm sorry." Except she wasn't sorry about that at all, but of everything else that happened since she accepted Ron's invitation. "Really, Viktor. I am so, _so_ sorry."

He caught the change in her tone and for a moment she was worried that he knew about Ron, but when he spoke again he sounded more apprehensive than angry. "Hermione, are you having fun tonight?"

She smiled, warmed by his question. "Yes, I'm having fun. What about you?"

"Good." He didn't look like he believed her but he smiled anyway. "I am happy if you are happy."

"You have _got_ to stop saying that! I'd really like you to be honest with me."

"I am honest," he said proudly. "I never lie to my mate!"

"Fine then. Try the Butterbeer and give me your honest opinion," she said, then quickly added: "and I'll know if you lie!"

He smirked rather haughtily at the challenge. He took a swig of his Butterbeer, then paused a moment to really savor the taste. It took all of Hermione's best effort to not laugh at his cream mustache.

"Is ok, but cream alone is better," he finally decided.

"That's because it's all on you," she said, giggling. "Here, let me help you."

She grabbed a napkin from the table and dipped it in water. She then stood on her toes before him and placed her free hand on his shoulder for support. She was dabbing at the cream when she heard the music of the orchestra behind her getting replaced with something louder and more mainstream. Her thumb accidentally brushed over his lips while she was distracted trying to make out the lyrics blaring behind her and the softness stunned her. She had never given much thought to his lips, mostly because she absolutely _refused_ to, but the few times she slipped she had always imagined them to be dry or chapped.

She tentatively glanced at him. He definitely felt her touching his lips. _Might as well, since he already knows,_ she thought, then shook her head. She _doesn't_ like how soft his lips felt! She was just… double-checking. She's Hermione, double and sometimes triple-checking things comes naturally to her, so she steeled herself and tucked the napkin further into her palm to fully brush her thumb over his lower lip.

"Soft," she said before she could stop herself. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards at the accidental confession.

"Get away from her!"

She scrambled away from Viktor in alarm. Ron was between them in a flash. He was pointing his wand at Viktor's chest, looking absolutely livid while Viktor regarded him with slight bewilderment. Hermione rushed to Ron's side and latched herself onto his arm and tugged hard.

"Ron, what are you _doing?!"_ she shrilled. "Nothing happened! We just–"

"He's doing it again!" he said loudly over her voice. "He's doing that... that Veela _thing_! He's doing it again and this time I'm not going to stand by and watch!"

She saw Harry, Ginny, and Neville coming towards them and she felt a little relieved, but then panicked again at the sight of the crowd gathering around them.

"Stop it!" she hissed to Ron, her nails digging into his wand arm. "You're making a scene. Viktor didn't do anything! We've already been through this, he's not–"

"That's what _he_ wants you to believe! Don't you see, Hermione? He's got you completely under his spell! You can't even tell when you're thinking straight and when you're not. This isn't normal." His blue eyes shifted towards Viktor, narrowed and accusatory. " _He_ is not normal."

Viktor scoffed. "Little boy is talking when confused, sound stupid."

Ron jabbed his wand at Viktor's throat, to which the champion merely smirked as his peers shoved their way through the crowd to point their wands at Ron, but it still didn't do much to dissuade him. If anything, Ron didn't seem to notice them at all. His eyes were fixed on Viktor, his grip on his wand tightening.

 _There's that Gryffindor streak…_

Hermione squeezed her way between them and placed both hands on Ron's chest and pushed as hard as she can, sending the redhead a few paces back.

"H-hey! What are you doing?"

"Enough, Ron!" she shrieked, shoving him again. "You lying, inconsiderate–"

"Lying?!" he repeated, horrified. "Merlin, it's worse than I thought! Hermione, you've got to get away from him. It's the only way you'll listen."

"I don't want to listen to anything you have to say!"

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. "We're getting out of here. This is for your own good."

Her eyes widened. She had never seen him behave this way before, no matter how angry or protective or terrified he had gotten in the past. Her first instinct was to claw at the iron hand tugging her away. "What–? No! Ron– _ow!_ You're hurting me!"

Glass shattered behind her. Ron looked over her head and the sight drained the blood from his face. He immediately released her hand and stumbled backwards and onto the ground, his eyes wide ad his mouth hanging open in fear. He pointed a shaking finger behind her. Hermione followed and saw Viktor standing with the hand that was previously holding the Butterbeer cup fisted around shards of glass. The drink pooled on the ground below that hand, and every few seconds or so drops of his blood would add red to the light brown puddle, but it was nothing compared to the look of utter hatred plastered on his face and focused solely on Ron.

Physically he looked like the Viktor Krum that's been trailing after her all this time, but at the same he didn't. Suddenly he became a stranger; a very dangerous, very intimidating stranger you most definitely wouldn't want to cross. Hermione felt the sudden strong urge to protect Ron, but from what exactly she wasn't sure because what she saw contradicted everything she's ever known about Viktor.

"Boy." Viktor's bloodied fist shook. Even his voice was different. It sent a chill down Hermione's spine. "I will end you."

Hermione gasped. Ron whimpered. The whispers around them rose to a thrilled tempo. Hermione distinctly heard the twins cussing and shoving somewhere in the back.

"Ron! Hermione!"

Harry finally managed to force his way in. He instinctively put himself in front of his friends while Ginny knelt on the floor besides her brother. The students from Durmstrang, still holding their wands aloft but without really pointing them at anyone, immediately tensed at Harry's arrival. Hermione felt Lavender and Parvati's arms around her.

"Shh it's alright, we're here now," said Parvati soothingly next to her, using the hem of her shawl to wipe Hermione's tears. She didn't even realise that she's been crying all this time.

Viktor didn't seem to notice anyone around him besides Ron, and Ron himself was unable to tear his eyes from Viktor. He was visibly trembling even as Ginny attempted to haul him back on his feet. He suddenly pushed her hand away and pointed at Viktor once more.

"Tell me you're seeing this, Ginny," he said, his voice pleading and just as terrified as his face. "His face, th-th-the teeth, h-horns! It's right there!"

Hermione looked at Viktor. She saw nothing unnatural besides the expression on his face.

"Ron, get up," Ginny urged, this time successfully pulling him to his feet.

"It's there! T-tell me you see him, Gin!"

"There's nothing there, Ron."

It came from Harry. He stood protectively still in front of them, but his posture had slackened. The Durmstrang students around Viktor slowly lowered their wands.

"What is the meaning of this? Make way for the Headmaster!"

McGonagall. Karkaroff was screaming in Bulgarian at the top of his lungs. Those from Durmstrang immediately stepped aside, forcefully paving the way for their headmaster as well as McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Maxime. The sight of the powerful, skilled wizards made Hermione crumble with relief. She fell in Lavender's embrace and cried into her shoulder, staining the girl's silky purple dress with tears and make-up as she finally felt the weight of the entire night on her back.

Her cries also seemed to have brought Viktor back from whatever Hellish dimension he just travelled to. He blinked, breaking his trance on Ron to look at Hermione. His tender black eyes, the ones she's always known, were suddenly anxious.

Karkaroff was at his side in a flash. "What happened? Were you attacked, Viktor?!"

Viktor looked at his fist. He slowly unfurled his fingers, allowing the shards of glass he held to fall and scatter on the ground. The fierce, sharp lines on his face creased, changing his entire demeanor in the blink of an eye. He looked like he had just woken up from a horrible nightmare only to find himself in a place even worse. He looked like he didn't recognise his own hand, or better yet, why he did whatever it is he just did.

"An attack on my champion, Albus!" Karkaroff bellowed, whirling around to glower at Dumbledore.

Hermione gasped when she saw Dumbledore staring directly at her.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked, gentle as always. She nodded, not trusting her own voice. He turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley?" Ron merely shook his head, still staring at Viktor as if he was expecting him to attack.

"He assaulted my champion!" Karkaroff said, now glaring down at Ron. "This is an outrage! I demand to have this boy punished this instance."

"I suppose I should be happy father didn't send me Durmstrang after all," drawled Malfoy.

"This is what you get when let respectable wizards breed with beasts," spat Pansy Parkinson. "You get an infestation of filthy halflings!"

"We don't use such foul language _especially_ towards our guests, Miss Parkinson," said McGonagall, her voice betraying her ire.

Karkaroff method was more direct and crass. "Why you insolent little–"

Snape didn't let him finish. He sliced his way through the crowd with ease, shocking all save for Dumbledore with the reminder of his presence. "I assure you, Igor, that I require no assistance disciplining my own house."

"You, Severus, I most certainly trust," huffed Karkaroff, sparing Pansy one more menacing glare before turning back to Viktor. "Now let me see that."

Viktor quickly pulled his hand away from Karkaroff and closer to his chest. His face was moulded to its usual dour mask, but Hermione didn't fail to notice his hunched back or guarded eyes. It brewed fresh tears in her eyes. "I will go."

"There's no need for that, Mr. Krum," said Dumbledore kindly. "I'm sure this is all just a simple misunderstanding."

Viktor shook his head, refusing to look at the headmaster's face. He was like a wounded animal, ready to strike but more inclined to flee. "I will go."

Somehow Dumbledore seemed to understand. "Very well. You are excused, Viktor."

He didn't need to force his way through the crowd. They parted for him as quickly as if he were carrying a deadly disease, even though he looked nothing like the strong, proud, formidable rival that first placed his name in the Goblet of Fire nor the mysterious, dangerous creature Ron provoked. He looked more like a broken, scared little boy running from an angry mob. Hermione couldn't understand why in that instance she was hurting more for him than she was for herself. Then she remembered the first time she was called a Mudblood.

* * *

A/N: decided to leave this note for the end because the chapter is long enough on its own.

First thing's first: I am so, _so_ sorry for the delay in updates. I promised I'd have this chapter up sooner, but then I hit a really bad block and I just couldn't bring myself to write anything for this or for my other multi-chaptered piece so I decided to play around with other pairs/story ideas to get a break from Viktor/Hermione. Only one got posted. Like I said, it was a really bad block! But I'm finally back so all is well :D for now...

Second: I feel like I should take the time to explain some of the reactions of the characters that lead to the situation escalating towards the end because I don't think I can properly implement it into the story without ruining the mood (I'm going for something that's mostly light and fun- and yea, I know that I kind of already ruined it in this chapter but this will only happen once every 5-10 chapters, I promise!) If you don't care, or if you're not too bothered, you may skip the rest of this!

\- Ron: might as well get this off my chest while I'm here. The truth is, I don't hate Ron. He's actually one of my favourite characters. I don't hate Ron/Hermione either, I just don't think the two of them are compatible as a couple. To keep this short: if they were my friends I'd advise them against dating each other. That being said, I didn't like Ron's character very much during GOF and HBP but I could also understand that Rowling was only trying to portray him as a typical teenage boy coming out of that "girls have cooties!" phase in a very ungraceful, very Muggle way that he also eventually grows out of during the events of DH. I could write an entire essay about that but I understand that you all have lives, so onto more pressing issues!

His reaction to seeing Viktor and Hermione together is really just my interpretation of how fourth year Ron Weasley would react, not grown-up post-DH Ron. In canon he got insanely jealous of Viktor, whom he previously idolised, without really understanding why (or maybe he kind of knew but was in denial) it's basically like watching your most favourite celebrity taking an interest in someone you really like- keep in mind that you'd be a teenager here and... well, a lot of teenagers don't make sound decisions at the best of times. Anyway, in this AU his paranoia would be intensified because of Viktor's mostly unknown Veela characteristics and also because here he's more bold and open about courting Hermione, so it would trigger Ron to react in slightly more extreme ways than normal.

\- Harry: I understand that Harry especially might come off as OOC here, as he is known to have been extremely protective of his friends in canon, but this is from Hermione's point of view and too many things were happening at once for her to linger on Harry for too long. Point is: no, he wasn't being dismissive towards Ron when he tried pointing out the "changes" happening on Viktor's face. Harry was most definitely on guard, but he wasn't expecting an attack because a) Dumbledore was there and b) he doesn't believe that Viktor is dangerous at all. Maybe clingy and annoying at times, but mostly harmless. Harry can also recognise when Ron is overreacting or blowing things out of proportion. That and he's already got enough on his plate as it is, so he's not going to worry about it as long as Viktor doesn't actually hurt his friends or align himself with Death Eaters. That being said, he's troubled by Viktor's unexpected mini display of aggression.

\- Hermione: she's just very confused right now. She's not even sure if her own feelings regarding anything to do with Viktor are genuine. Now add school into the mix as well as Harry competing in a life-threatening tournament designed for older students and Ron behaving the way he is right now. It's too much for a 14/15 year old to handle all at once, no matter how smart and mature she may be. Academically Hermione is most definitely beyond her years, but emotionally? Romantically? She's a child. Or at least at this point in her life she is.

This is an alternative universe, a 'what-if', so really it's all up for interpretation! And of course you're all allowed to agree or disagree! This is just one person's interpretation of a character's behaviour/reaction in a certain environment/situation.

Also Snape took a break from his carriage-checking and teen-pregnancy-preventing job because no one, _no one,_ gets to say one word against his house while he's still alive. He's a mother hen like that but he'd never admit it.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So this chapter was supposed to be posted immediately after the last, as it's a continuation of the Yule Ball bit, but then real life got in the way and I was forced to postpone it. And then I got sick. To the lovely people that reviewed: I am so sorry I didn't reply to any of you! I feel horrible and just plain rude for not even saying a quick 'thank you', but please know that I am _very_ grateful and happy with your feedback! I was also VERY happy to see a surge in favourites :D I don't know what it is, but I feel really special whenever one of my stories make it to someone's favourite list.

* * *

Hermione was pacing the length of the common room when the twins finally returned from their search.

"Sorry, Hermione," said George before she could ask.

"We looked everywhere," said Fred, crawling through the portrait hole after his brother. "No sign of Krum."

"Are you sure you looked everywhere?" she asked desperately.

"Everywhere," repeated George.

"The Quidditch field," said Fred.

"The library."

"Classrooms."

"Astronomy Tower."

"Greenhouse."

"Owlery."

"And the ship. His mates said they haven't seen him coming in. They didn't look very worried so maybe we shouldn't."

Fred nodded. "He's a big boy, Hermione."

"He can take care of himself. Probably just went out for a quick ride to blow off some steam."

"Ronnie-kins really got to him this time."

"Git."

"But like we said, he's a big boy."

"That he is. Even his headmaster wasn't bothered. Found him in the courtyard moaning to Snape about a rash on his arm."

Harry perked at that. "A rash? What kind? What else did you hear?"

Fred shrugged. "Not much. Didn't stick around to hear the rest."

"Why not?"

"That doesn't matter now," Hermione cut in, pacing by the fire. "He's got to be around here somewhere."

Ginny stopped her. "Fred and George are right, Hermione. Wherever he is I'm sure he's fine. He'll turn up tomorrow at breakfast and you can just talk to him then."

"And it's late," said Neville on the sofa, barely stifling a yawn. "He probably crashed somewhere on the ship."

"But his friends said they haven't seen him," argued Hermione. "Oh, I can't wait until tomorrow! I have to find him."

"I don't think you've got much of a choice right now," said Harry, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Look, it's been a long night for all of us. You especially could use some sleep. He's a champion, remember? There are two more tasks left to the tournament. He'll have to show up eventually."

Her eyes welled with fresh tears. They were red and puffy from all the crying she's already done. She remembers having fun at some point but it felt so far and dream-like that she's inclined to believe that it never happened to begin with, that the only thing she's ever done since walking down those steps was pillaging the entire castle searching for Viktor and calling his name until the pain in her throat forced her to stop.

Hermione heard that McGonagall had managed to pacify the situation after she left, and that the ball commenced once the Weird Sisters started playing again. Everyone had gone back to doing whatever it is they were doing before Ron and Viktor's confrontation interrupted them, but the three of them were still the talk of the party. Or that's what Lavender said when Hermione finally returned to the common room hours after the ball had ended and when her friends had already changed out of their dress robes and into their pajamas, and one look at her disheveled state and tear-streaked face and Fred and George were out of the portrait hole faster than the brooms they rode. Hermione actually laughed at that. It scared her remaining friends, but she truly thought it funny. She must've looked really _bad_ for twins to become so determined to accomplish something not at all related to pranking someone or to fund their dream joke shop.

Lavender and Parvati were already asleep by the time she returned to their shared dormitory. Normally she'd fuss and complain about the messy state of the room, or at least free herself of her dress and into her own pajamas, but she was far too exhausted for both tasks. The only thing she could do was shake the remaining bobby pins out of her hair to allow the rest of her curls to bounce freely down her back. She took off her heels and placed them by her trunk as quietly as she could so as to avoid waking her roommates and then dealing with their many intrusive questions. She felt too hallow to hold a proper human conversation.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed massaging her sore foot when she noticed the elegant, velvety envelope resting neatly on her pillow. Her name was written at the front in a similar neat, swirly handwriting as Carolina Krum's and Hermione grabbed it and tore it open without a second thought. It read:

 _Dear Miss Granger,_

 _My granddaughter had written to me several weeks ago regarding your little problem, but I'm sorry to say that personal and health issues prevented me from writing to you earlier. I hope nothing serious happened in the meantime and that you are doing well, all things considered._

 _I wish to give you a solution in this letter more than anything, Miss Granger, but I'm afraid it cannot be. The situation is dire and the subject is far too sensitive for writing, but rest assured that I am not leaving you to the mercy of that horrible man. I will arrange for us to meet in person. I don't know how, but I will do whatever it takes to meet you and to explain everything and to answer any questions you may have. I will write to you again with a date, time, and place for us to meet, but in the meantime I'd like you to do a few things for me._

 _First, I want you to burn this letter after you finish reading it. I advise you against sharing its contents with anyone, not even with Fleur or your friend Harry Potter. I cannot possibly stress upon you the importance of secrecy._

 _Second, do not reply to this letter. I prefer that no one catches wind of our correspondence._

 _Third, please don't resist him. I know this particular request will be hardest for you but for your own sake more than anyone else's I must ask you to stop rejecting him this instance. Deceive him if you must, make him believe that he is succeeding, but please don't make him desperate. The more desperate he becomes, the more wild and dangerous._

 _I will come for you, Miss Granger, you have my word on that, but if you truly want my help I'll need to have your full cooperation, and most importantly, your trust. I pray that you heed my warnings._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Daniela Dumont._

Hermione read over the letter a second time, and then a third. She couldn't believe it. How could that woman say such things? What gave her the right to ask Hermione to hide things from Harry, one of her best and most trustworthy friends and perhaps the bravest and strongest wizard she'll ever know? And how could she speak that way about Viktor when she knew absolutely _nothing_ about him besides the exaggerated rubbish she'd find in gossip magazines? How could she refer to him, her own kind, in a manner similar to that of a raging beast?

Without knowing it Hermione had crumpled the letter in her fist. She felt anger coursing through her, unpredictable and unimaginably strong and fast, and this time she had no intention of quelling it. First Fleur, then Ron, and now this Daniela Dumont. She has had enough, more so with everyone treating her like a bloody damsel in distress and Viktor a mindless brute than with the Veela curse itself. They all spoke as if they knew everything there is to know about male Veela without once considering Viktor's human half, the part _she's_ more acquainted with, and it infuriated her to no end because she expected Daniela at least to be more understanding.

 _He's more civil and human than all of you combined,_ she thought with uncharacteristic disdain. Never mind that he threatened Ron just a few hours ago. He wasn't himself. It was obviously the Veela somehow sensing her distress and trying to protect her, and the fact that he _didn't_ attack Ron shows that he's in control. He was also very clearly mortified with what he did, otherwise he wouldn't have been so eager to leave, and the fact that Pansy and Malfoy's slurs affected him proves that he's not nearly as dangerous and monstrous as they all try to make him out to be.

She tossed the balled letter over her shoulders with a scoff. What rabid Veela would put effort into a relationship anyway! He'd just claim her as his rather than try to hold her hand or hug her everyday despite her scolding him or pushing him back, or take the time to choose some ridiculously expensive item to give as a token of his affection only to end up taking her rejection with a grin and a promise to try even harder the next day. Monsters don't do these things, nor do they start learning a whole new language just to be able to better communicate with their mate. They also don't have a penchant for sweets.

She jumped to her feet, eyes wide and hands quickly clamping over her mouth to stifle her excitement. _Of course_ he'd be there of all places! She'd smack herself silly for not thinking of searching there first, but she's so giddy with the revelation that she forgoes wearing her heels or changing out of her dress robes or even grabbing her wand. She was running out of the portrait hole as fast as her bare feet could take her, for once not caring about the time nor what the consequences of getting caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris could do to her otherwise impeccable school record.

She miraculously made it to the portrait leading to the kitchen without getting caught. She tickled the pear and crawled through the opening. The sight that greeted her on the other end melted her heart and she nearly cried with relief. There was Viktor sitting on the ground with his legs crossed beneath him and his boots, fur cloak, and shirt discarded in a pile beside him. There was an open heavy book balanced on his lap and also a tray full of raw cookie dough balls and a bowl of brownie batter on the ground before him. He was flipping through pages of recipes with one hand and with the other he'd take a raw cookie dough ball, dip it in the brownie batter, and then plop it into his mouth. All the house elves seemed too excited with anticipation for whatever he'd ask them to bake to notice Hermione standing and watching from the entrance, except for Winky who stood close to Viktor anxiously wringing her bony fingers. She appeared to be sober for once.

"Did Master want Winky to bake his cookies?" she asked, eyeing the tray.

"No," said Viktor without looking up from the book, plopping another brownie batter smothered dough into his mouth.

"But Winky must, Sir, or Master will be sick again!" she wailed, looking like she was about to grab the tray anyway but then quickly holding herself back. "Please, Sir!"

Perhaps she wasn't exactly as sober as Hermione thought.

"I am ok," he said, then with furrowed brows he looked at another elf and asked: "what is scone?"

Winky was too persistent. She pushed the poor elf out of the way before he could answer. "But Sir!"

Hermione decided to make her appearance known. She stepped into the light. "She's right, you know. You could get salmonella from eating too much raw cookie dough."

"Miss!" it was Dobby, poking his head from the mass of startled and glaring house elves to beam at her. It appears that they haven't forgotten about her last visit.

Viktor himself was so alarmed by her sudden appearance that he dropped the dough into the batter. She paused, more conscious of his horrified look and of his shame flooding the entire room than at the state of her dress and hair.

"Hi," she said, as softly as she would approaching a frightened rabbit.

He averted his eyes back to the book on his lap. He flipped a page without really reading it. "You find me."

"I did." She hesitated. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. May I join you?"

He nodded, then seemed to remember something when she sat on the ground next to him. He quickly set the book aside and grabbed his shirt from the pile, but he was too late. Hermione saw the mark on his chest. From a distance she thought it was an odd, large birthmark but on closer inspection she found it to be a scar– a burn, rather, right at the center of his chest and shaped like a blazing sun.

"Oh my goodness!" she gasped, forgetting herself and tracing a hand on the edge of the wound. He flinched at the contact and she immediately retreated her hand. "What happened?"

She regretted the question the moment she said it. He looked very uncomfortable as he quickly shrugged on his shirt and buttoned up the area over the mark.

"It is old," he muttered.

She scooted back to give him some space. "It's– it's alright if you don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry, Viktor, I didn't mean to intrude!"

"You apologize too much," he said as he picked up his discarded book, still not looking at her.

She waited for him to add more to that observation. A part of her hoped for him to tell her the story behind the burn, but he remained silent so she let it drop for now. "I– well– alright then." She cleared her throat, racking her brain for a subject to help them move past this rather disastrous start. "I– I noticed that you eat when you're upset. My father is a comfort eater as well, but he leans more towards savory snacks rather than sweets."

Viktor grunted in response. Hermione couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

An awkward silence would've settled between them if the house elves hadn't gathered around Viktor again, pointing at different recipes and suggesting others and begging him to choose one to bake them for him. Few even started fighting over that particular subject. Hermione would've thought the sight amusing in a pitiful way if she wasn't so distracted with her mission to break the ice between her and Viktor. Viktor himself wasn't paying any attention to the recipes nor the cookie dough and brownie batter he seemed very unable to part from just a while ago.

A short inner battle of morals later, she called politely for the elves attention. Only Dobby was happy to respond. "Sorry for making you do this, Dobby, but is it alright if Viktor and I get some privacy?"

"Not a problem for Dobby, Miss!" he squeaked, then looked uncertainly at the eager house elves still begging and complimenting Viktor whilst making a point of completely ignoring Hermione. "But it is difficult for Dobby to make other house elves listen. You have to command them, Miss, or they will not listen."

"I will do no such thing! I refuse to participate in such outdated, barbaric–"

"I want scone. All of you make one," declared Viktor next to her, quickly shutting the heavy tome with a snap and setting it aside. He pushed the raw cookie dough and brownie batter at Winky. "Bake this." He glanced at Hermione from the corner of his eyes. "Please."

Winky beamed, her large eyes tearing up with joy Hermione hadn't ever seen on her before. "Yes, Master Barty! Winky will bake it just like Master Barty likes it, chewy in the middle with extra chocolate chips!"

"What does Sir want Dobby to do?" chirped Dobby, forgetting himself in the excitement of his fellow elves.

"Master Barty doesn't need Dobby, Master Barty has Winky!" shrilled Winky, repeatedly shoving Dobby.

"It's not Barty, Winky, it is Mister Viktor Krum!"

"Winky knows Master Barty when Winky is seeing Master Barty!"

Their argument was drowned by the sound of elves rushing to prepare Viktor's scones. Hermione shook her head at their retreating, lightly scuffling tiny forms. "Who would've thought that Barty Crouch, Sr. has a weak spot for cookies with extra chocolate chips."

"I am better looking than Barty Crouch," grumbled Viktor, glaring at Winky. "I am better looking than all boys."

Hermione smiled. At least he wasn't too put out to puff up his chest and parade himself around her. "Don't mind her. She probably just had a lot more Butterbeer than she should." He tensed at that. The mention of Butterbeer seemed to have reminded him of the incident. Hermione looked at his hands. Both appeared to be fine. She frowned. Shouldn't there be a cut somewhere? "How's your hand?"

"Healed." He said, lifting the one in question for her inspection. The skin was clear and without a cut in sight or even a scar.

"It can't be," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling it closer to her face. "How?! I'm sure the cut was deep!" She looked up and saw that she had actually pulled him closer to her. She blushed and quickly released his hand. "Logically speaking, I mean, you should have a really bad cut."

He shrugged. "Is better."

" _How?_ What healing spell did you use? I can't find _Essence of Dittany_ anywhere here."

"No healing spells needed. Veela saliva can heal cuts not done by magic."

"That can't be true! I'd know if it is. I've been reading extensively on Veela since–" she cleared her throat. "I-I mean, it'd be in all kinds of books. Surely some wizard or witch somewhere would've thought of cultivating that at some point!"

"Only for some male Veela, and not many are out there," he explained, then narrowed his eyes disapprovingly at her. "You did not read book."

She flushed. Now it was her turn to look away in shame. "I take it the book mentions that…"

He released a long, deep sigh, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He pinched the bridge of his long, crooked nose.

She bit her lip, feeling like a notoriously slacking student being confronted by an exasperated tutor. "I'm sorry! I just… I heard some things about the author. He's not to be trusted, Viktor, especially with Veela! He treats you like some kind of–"

"Scamander is good," he cut her off defensively. "He is better than many wizards. Everything he is saying is true."

"But even Veela are upset with him!"

He scoffed. "Veela get upset with everything, especially the women. You say their hair is pretty instead of beautiful and they burn you."

"And I take it that's what happened with you?" she blurted without thinking, then cursed herself. _Very smooth indeed, Granger._

His hand wandered to the burned spot on his chest. He looked sad despite his tone and it made Hermione hate herself even more for being so thick and insensitive for bring that up again when things were just starting to improve between them. "There are bad Veela, like bad wizards and bad Muggles." He then looked at her, his expression twisting into something scared and desperate and pleading. "I am not bad."

"Oh, Viktor, I know I–"

He continued talking over her. He didn't seem to hear her. He was too much in a frenzy, too rushed to get everything out in the open, as if this is his one and only chance to clear his name. The sight was like a knife twisting in Hermione's gut and she'd openly weep if Viktor's wellbeing wasn't her first priority. "I get angry, and stupid, and sometimes I say bad naughty words to annoying people in Bulgarian, but I swear I am not bad! On my honor, see? I will never hurt you!"

She placed both her hands on top of the one over his heart to still his rambling. "I _know_ , Viktor! I know you're not bad. I never thought you were bad _or_ stupid."

"But Weasley–"

"Ron's an idiot!" she said hotly. "He's wrong about you!" she looked up at him imploringly. "They're all wrong about you. They don't know you and yet they continue making all these ridiculous assumptions about you only because you're part-Veela and it isn't fair. They were practically worshipping you just before the World Cup! But I don't believe them." His tense shoulders loosened but he still appeared uncertain. She smiled. "I know you're good, Viktor. What happened at the ball was an accident. I know you wouldn't ever hurt anyone, especially not my friends."

He hesitated, then with his free hand he reached forward and brushed her smoothed curls behind her ear, his eyes timid still but also tender. "You are not scared?"

"Of heights? Definitely. Of you? Never. I don't have reason to."

Relief washed over him. He was instantly restored to the grinning, love struck half-Veela she's been struggling to shake off for months. "Good. I am happy again."

She raised a brow. " _That's_ what you were worried about?"

"Of course. Is not good if my mate is scared of me."

"I am not your m–!" she bit her tongue. _Later,_ she decided. "I– I was worried sick, Viktor!" she pulled away from him and stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest when he tried to grab her hands again. "I looked _everywhere_ for you! I thought you got hurt, or that you'd hurt yourself!"

"Why I do that? I'm not crazy." He tried collecting her in his arms. She scooted out of reach. "Hermione!" He whined. "Please come. I miss you so much."

Apparently he can recover fast in more ways than one. He's most definitely back. Hermione wants to rejoice but also groan.

"I- I don't know!" she huffed, turning away from him with a scowl. "I thought you were hurt. I thought… Malfoy… and Pansy Parkinson's comments about…you know…" she swallowed with difficulty. "Well, I've been called a Mudblood many times before and the feeling is not exactly pleasant."

"I know what they say about me, Hermione. Is ok, not the first time I hear it. I don't care."

"Still!" she insisted. "I wanted to make sure that you're alright, and to also tell you that not everyone here is a prat like Malfoy and his cronies. Not everyone thinks like them."

"I know," he repeated. "Words like that don't affect me."

"Because you're strong?"

He grinned, missing the sarcasm in her tone. "Of course! Also because I hear worse from Veela."

She bristled at that. "And what have they got against you? You're one of them!"

He shrugged. "I am thinking they are more angry with my mother for marrying my father."

It did nothing to pacify her anger at the blatant prejudice, especially when she herself had been on the receiving end. What made his situation worse was that he experienced it both ways, whereas Hermione was granted immunity in the Muggle world. "So what if she did! Veela marry wizards all over the country and no one bats an eye! Why should they hold it against your mother specifically, and why punish you for something you couldn't control?"

"Many Veela marry wizards, not male half-Veela."

She froze, her social justice rants instantly dying in her throat. If his mother is full Veela, and his father one of the very rare half, then that would make Viktor at least three-quarter Veela. More than half. Closer to being a full-blooded male Veela, perhaps the only one in existence for centuries, or the only one to _ever_ exist assuming that male Veela were never around to begin with.

He was very quietly, very anxiously staring back at her.

She schooled her face into one of determination. "You know what? I don't care."

"Hermione…" he began.

"I don't," she cut him off resolutely. "I honestly don't. I told you, not everyone here thinks like Malfoy. _I_ certainly don't. In fact," here she rose to her feet and offered him her hand, "I'd like you to dance with me."

"Dance?" he repeated, perplexed. " _Here_? Ball is over many hours ago."

"So?" she snorted. "We're still dressed for the occasion, aren't we? And we never got to dance."

His eyes widened. "You… you wanted to dance with me?"

She opened her mouth to deny it but then thought better of it. This isn't her night. It's his. He deserves it for the grief he received from both Ron and Malfoy.

And she _did_ want to dance with him _especially_ when he was entertaining Claudette on the dance floor, however much she'd rather deny it.

"We will make music for Sir and Miss!" squeaked one of the smaller elves that was eavesdropping.

It appears that he wasn't the only one, for immediately after making that announcement various different kitchen utensils were banged against pots and pans all around them. The elves that weren't abusing kitchen equipment were clapping and singing, and a few of them even started dancing. The whole affair was messy and uncoordinated and just plain noisy, but their merrymaking was so pure and contagious that both Viktor and Hermione were weak to its influence.

Viktor grinned at her. He grabbed her hand and before she knew it she was at the center of the kitchen dancing amidst all that chaos. She squealed when he lifted her in the air and only when he set her back down did she realize that he was imitating the opening dance from the ball, except it was different but not because of their unusual choice of orchestra or their bare feet, her freed curls, or his missing cape. It was different, and _better,_ because they were themselves and they were together. There were no eyes watching their every move, no whispers creating hurtful gossip, there was just Viktor and Hermione and a friendly audience of house elves that have taken a great liking to the Veela.

A house elf that appeared to be in charge commanded the rest to cease their banging to avoid disturbing the sleeping masters. His bossy, serious manner as well as the groans and complaints and eye-rolls he induced from the elves reminded Hermione too much of Percy Weasley and she couldn't help but laugh.

They continued dancing long after the elves stopped, laughing at each other but hardly speaking, and they didn't stop even when their combined drowsiness took over. They merely slowed their dance. Hermione pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. She had never felt more comfortable in her entire life, not even when she was snuggled deeply into the luxurious soft pillows of the bed from the Parisian hotel she and her parents were staying at a year ago. She felt him kissing her head.

"You know I haven't washed my hair since yesterday, don't you?" she murmured, smiling when she felt the vibrations of his chuckle against her cheek.

"I don't care. I can kiss you forever."

She looked up at him, suddenly feeling brave but also very, very scared. "It's alright."

He tilted his head, slowing their dance to a stop. "What is?"

She held him tight because she didn't trust herself. She knew she was blushing a deep, embarrassing shade of red but she didn't care. She wanted to make him happy. "You can kiss me if you want. I don't mind."

Hermione never thought she'd ever be reduced to bargaining her first kiss out of pity, but oddly enough she wasn't too upset with the prospect of Viktor claiming it.

Viktor wasn't as shocked or elated as she expected him to be. If anything he just looked more confused, as if what he just heard from her was uttered in an alien language, but his gaze lowered nonetheless. He cradled her chin with one hand and tilted her head towards his. His thumb pressed her lower lip, prying her mouth open only slightly. She closed her eyes. She felt his nose nudging hers. His breath felt warm on her skin.

And then he was gone.

Her eyes snapped open. She found him by the spot they were previously occupying. He had his cloak draped over his arm and he was pulling his boots on with an unreadable look on his face.

"Viktor…?" she called softly, her head spinning from the whirlwind of emotions he left her with.

He walked towards her and draped his cloak over her shoulders. "It's late. I will walk with you to your room. Is that ok?"

She nodded slowly. She was expecting more, but she couldn't exactly tell what.

He smiled knowingly as if he just read her mind. "I _want_ to kiss you, Hermione, but I will wait."

"For what?"

"For you to want to kiss me."

* * *

A/N: so I have this weird head-canon that Barty Crouch, Jr. loves eating raw cookie dough with extra chocolate chips and it used to drive poor Winky up the wall because he'd have too much of it and get sick every time but he still wouldn't listen to her because... house elves. Of course this was before things got bad for him. Hermione wouldn't know so she assumed that Winky was talking about Barty Crouch, Sr. and with Viktor in mind she'd be too distracted to consider the possibility that Winky was referring to Barty Crouch, Jr. Not that it matters much in the grand scheme of things, I suppose. I'm actually not sure why I felt the need to expand on it. Guess I'm a bit fond of this head-canon.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So things haven't been going very well with me over the past few months and they're not getting any better. I'm really sorry it took this long to get a new chapter out, and that I haven't replied to anyone that tried to ask about the story, and I really want to say that it won't happen again but I'm afraid I'm not in the position to make such promises at the moment. Puppy Love is _not_ abandoned, it'll just get updated at a much slower pace than planned. It's not permanent and it's definitely not intentional, it's just that when your whole system shuts down... it just does. Again, I'm really sorry. I'll try my best.

Check out my profile for more details/updates on my other stories.

* * *

"Hermione."

It sounded like Ginny but distant. Without opening her eyes Hermione mumbled something in response. There were other voices, all as dull and distant, but she paid them no mind.

She felt a gentle hand on her back. The owner had a voice a few octaves deeper than Ginny's. "Hermione, you are sleeping on your food."

She jerked in her seat, mumbling incoherently and looking as utterly ruffled and lost as she felt. Her hair, frizzy once again, was tied in a messy, lazy bun at the back of her head. There were dark circles under her eyes and she reckons bits of eggs and bacon sticking to her cheek if the grease sliding down her chin was of any indication. Harry, who sat facing her, offered her a napkin but Viktor was quick to clean the mess and reheat her coffee with a flick of his wand.

"Thank you," she mumbled, reaching for the warm cup and taking a sip.

"Sugar?" he offered next to her. She shook her head. She never liked sugar in her coffee, or milk. It served its purpose better as it is, black and harsh and bitter on her tongue. Viktor, on the other hand, seemed to disagree as he dropped at least six or seven sugar cubes in his own cup.

It took her a while longer than usual to take in her surroundings. She couldn't understand why the general atmosphere of the Great Hall felt different. Her own Gryffindor table seemed more boisterous than usual, which she found strange considering that just the night before one of their own was almost attacked. The ones that spoke from the Slytherin and Ravenclaw table did so in whispers and many were looking towards her. At first Hermione assumed that it's to do with her housemates being loud, but then the caffeine finally worked its magic.

Hermione looked at Viktor, sitting next to her on the Gryffindor table and then towards the Slytherin table where's he's supposed to be. She was met with several Slytherins staring coldly back at her, Malfoy's crowd in particular that stuck around Viktor during the first few weeks of his arrival.

"Don't ask me," said Ginny when Hermione turned to her, poking at her breakfast with no intention of eating it. "We were hoping you'd know."

The rest of the students from Durmstrang were also missing from the Slytherin table. Something didn't feel right, and it wasn't just the looks and whispers and Viktor's presence next to her and his peers' absence from their usual table, or even Harry and Ginny's caution for that matter, but it was the way in which Viktor regarded the whole ordeal nonchalantly. He was reading a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and drinking his too-sweet coffee as if he's been doing it since his arrival.

"Viktor…?"

He reached for the coffee pot across the table and refilled her cup.

"Oh, er, thanks," she said. She hadn't realized that she's finished her first drink already.

"You are very welcome," he said, giving her a quick smile before returning to his paper.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He was definitely up to something, she just knew it, and that something will most likely turn her hair grey.

Things got even more confusing with the twins' appearance. They were late, for starters, and also more cheerful than one would consider normal at such an early hour.

"Mornin', Granger Danger!" greeted Fred with a wide grin, taking the empty seat next to her.

"You forgot your book," said George, taking his place next to Viktor. He opened the book to a random page and his grin turned mischievous. " _Oooh_ , mating rituals!"

Hermione recognized _Veela: Myth, Legends, and Facts_ in George's hands. She must've left it in the common room in her hurry to get breakfast. Viktor lifted his open newspaper out of the way in time for her to attempt to swipe it out of George's hands, but he was too fast for her slowed reflexes. Fred laughed.

"Give it back, George," she said, glaring at him.

He ignored her and spoke to Viktor. "What'd you even need rituals for? I thought you just look at women and _poof_ they're mad for you."

Viktor scoffed. "Of course not. That only works for the women, we men have to impress."

"Typical," he grumbled, going back to a passage in the book.

"Alright you've had your fun," said Hermione, making another attempt for the book but once again George successfully pulls it out of her reach.

" _A simple heartfelt confession is not enough sometimes,"_ he started reading out loud, " _and herein lies the Veela's greatest conquest—winning his mate's affections the old fashioned way, or what is known to the common man as courting."_

She was half-tempted to shove Viktor out of the way and lunge at the grinning redhead, and she would have if it weren't for Fred's hands on her shoulders holding her back.

"Come now, Granger, let the boy learn!" said Fred. "Who knows, such tips might come in handy one day when dear Georgie starts looking for a mate."

She growled in response and shook herself free. She was about to get up and around Viktor to forcefully take the book from George's tight grip, but the next passage he read caught her interest.

" _The first step he takes he must with great caution and some trickery, for if he fails he will further distance himself from his mate,"_ he read. _"He is to initiate contact but from a safe distance, just enough to entice her but not startle her, and he must do it in a manner that piques her curiosity and encourages her to invite him into her territory."_

The Hogsmeade trip. Was that a trick? Had he known how to pronounce her name the entire time but feigned ignorance to get her to make that bet with him?

 _"The next step is showcasing his affection for her through countless extravagant offerings, and such offerings vary depending on the Veela being courted. Most Veela start with jewellery or fine clothing or sweets, but if his mate continues to refuse his offerings he starts getting creative and some of the female Veela take advantage of that as their suitors will never stop until at least one offering is accepted."_

The sweets from Honeydukes _,_ Tomes and Scrolls, and whatever it was he wanted to give her for the Yule Ball. She hadn't accepted any, unless if he counted his promise to not get himself bankrupt as an acceptance of an offering. She knew from the very beginning that he's trying, and that he'll likely never stop until she explicitly tells him how she feels, but it never occurred to her that his current attempts were all a part of some kind of ancient mating ritual. She herself wasn't stalling, but she hadn't put the process on hold as she had originally thought. It had already started, not since the Triwizard Tournament commenced but since his confession at the World Cup.

Ginny was the first to notice the colour draining from Hermione's face. Her expression reminded her of Ron's face at the ball when he saw her with Viktor. "That's enough, George."

Viktor responded instead, always quick to sense an anomaly in any situation concerning Hermione. He lowered the newspaper to the table and looked at her with concern. "You are ok, Hermione?"

He quickly looked away before she could begin forming a response, as if his name was just called. Hermione followed his line of view and saw Ron standing before him, both hands clenched by his sides. She hadn't even heard him approaching, lost as she was in her own now chaotic world, and he himself was too engaged with whatever silent battle he was having with Viktor to spare her a word or glance. His expression held pure contempt and nothing of the fear from the previous night.

That's when the entire hall fell into silence. Hermione didn't need to look around to know that all eyes were on them, for barely twenty-four hours have passed since the two wizards nearly clashed.

George was the only one oblivious to it all; still absorbed with a reading he himself probably didn't think he'd find fascinating. " _During this time it's imperative that all young, fit males of any species refrain from approaching the courted Veela with similar intentions in mind, especially when the courting Veela in question has already faced several rejections. Male Veela are possessive of their mates and are generally prone to aggression when it comes to the smallest possible threat. A love-struck yet rejected, agitated male Veela's first instinct to competition is to eliminate it."_

The sound of the Patil twins entering the Great Hall was made louder due to the stillness, but the girls didn't seem to notice or care. Padma didn't leave her twin for the Ravenclaw table as she normally does every morning. Instead she continued walking with her sister and stopped next to Ron, looking at Viktor with a rather bold, haughty expression as opposed to her sister's evidently pleased one. It was then Hermione realised that she didn't know a thing about Padma Patil, or what she could possibly be like as a person.

"Well, I for one am glad to see that you've come back to your senses," said Parvati to Viktor. "Poodles are quite the menace, aren't they?"

Viktor looked like he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, and chances are he didn't. Even Ron took a moment to frown at Parvati. Hermione had to fight back a smile by taking a good gulp of coffee.

Padma looked displeased with the friendly exchange. She turned to Ron. "Care to join us at our table?"

Harry and Ginny looked at Ron, more perplexed at his silence than at Padma's sudden invitation, but Ron was looking at Viktor again with the same fury from before.

"I will not hurt you," said Viktor, breaking the silence, except his voice held none of the promise Hermione expected. It was faint, but she managed to catch it. He said it in the voice of the creature.

Padma's lips curled in disgust and Hermione thought it a wonder that she ended up in Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor like her sister.

"I'm not afraid of you," declared Ron without breaking eye contact.

There was no warmth in Viktor's smile but at the same time it wasn't predatory and Hermione found comfort in that. "Good."

"Guests ought to be careful to not overstep their boundaries," said Padma, staring down at Viktor as she would something foul, "Fame doesn't give you a free pass around here, but _decency_ on the other hand can get you pretty close. I'd assume you'd learn that by now, what with being around Harry this entire time."

"We haven't really-" Harry started.

"Come then, before our breakfast gets cold," she said to Ron, ignoring Harry completely. Ron hesitated but then allowed her to lead him away. The look he briefly threw Hermione's way was one of betrayal and it made her nauseous.

"What's with them?" asked George, finally taking in the changes around him. "Did I miss something?"

Viktor snatched the book from his hands, closed it and passed it to Hermione before returning to his paper with a disgruntled huff.

"I think Ronnie started something," said Fred to George, shrugging. "Doesn't look good for him, of course, but if we start a betting ring…"

"As nice as that sounds, Freddy, we might not have the time for it if our presentation proves to be as successful as promised," said George, giving Viktor a wink and a nudge. "Isn't that right, Vik?"

"I am not seeing anything," he said without looking up from his newspaper. "I am thinking maybe you don't have anything."

"Patience, good sir!" said Fred.

"Aye, good things come to those who wait!" said George.

Hermione noticed Parvati still standing behind Harry looking like she was trying to find an empty seat, which was strange because at least a dozen seats were unoccupied around them.

Hermione smiled. "You don't have to wait for Lavender to join us. Just take any seat."

Parvati looked shocked at the friendly invitation. She smiled warmly. "I'd love to, Hermione, but it appears that there isn't any room left."

"What are you talking about? There's plenty of space."

"Oh, you'll know soon enough." She exchanged quick knowing smiles with the twins and it puzzled Hermione. She thinks that she should be at least a tiny bit anxious by now but so many strange things have happened so far that there's barely any room left for anything in her very sleep-deprived, very confused mind.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when Parvati placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned close to his ear. "I'll see you later then?" she asked cheerfully.

"Err, sure, yea," he mumbled. She squeezed his shoulder before sauntering towards the end of the table where her group usually sat.

Hermione took note of her elegantly braided hair and of the glittering butterfly clips in between and began to wonder if it had anything to do with the Yule Ball. The thought alone filled her with dread. She covered her face with her hands and groaned. If the situation is what she thinks it is then it won't be easy to diffuse.

Viktor looked over his paper at her but she ignored him and said to Harry, "did something happen last night?"

"You're one to ask!" Ginny answered instead, unable to contain her frustration and confusion and anger any longer. "What's gotten into you? Just last night you were sending search parties and tearing your hair out looking for Krum!"

At hearing that Viktor stopped reading to run his fingers through her hair, gently prodding her scalp for bald spots, his brows furrowed in concern.

She smiled and lowered his hand from her hair. "She didn't mean it literally, Viktor. I'm alright."

"Hermione!" Ginny hissed.

"I found him in the end!" Hermione snapped. " _Clearly_ it's all worked out."

Ginny's eyes were wide with shock. At first Hermione thought she was simply blowing things out of proportion, but then she looked to Harry and saw that his expression was matching Ginny's. The two of them exchanged worried glances. At first Hermione was angered at the sight, but then she realised that she hadn't told them about what happened after they bade her good night. She hadn't told them about Daniela's letter that somehow led her to finding Viktor in the kitchens, or that there's some truth in T. J. Scamander's book, or that Viktor was much closer to being a full-blooded Veela than Fleur herself.

Hermione also hadn't told Ginny about their almost-kiss, but looking at the way the redhead was currently regarding Viktor she decided to leave that bit for another time.

She sighed. "Sorry, I didn't get to sleep much last night. I snuck out to continue looking for Viktor."

"She is finding me in the kitchen," Viktor provided, his newspaper now closed and folded on his clean plate. "I was with house elves. They are very nice, but I don't think they are liking Hermione very much. I don't know why. _I_ like Hermione."

Ginny's hazel eyes snapped towards him, aggressive and fiery. "I didn't ask _you,_ now did I?"

Viktor looked startled, as if Ginny had thrown something solid at him.

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped.

"We need to talk," she said to Hermione, all business-like and pressing. "In _private._ "

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, to defend Viktor over more silly fears and claims that held no ground, but they were quickly distracted by the appearance of the missing Durmstrang students. They were walking behind each other in a straight line towards the Slytherin table, perfectly disciplined as always, carrying large trays filled with delicious-smelling delicacies Hermione assumed to be from the students' respective home countries. The Slytherins certainly looked pleased with the offerings. Hermione saw Karkaroff from the staff table looking utterly stunned, meaning that whatever this is it wasn't something the headmaster had planned. It made Hermione worry.

The students from Durmstrang set the plates on the Slytherin table towards the side where fourth to seventh years sat. They then bowed respectfully before turning around and making their way towards the Gryffindor table to take the empty seats surrounding Viktor, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and the twins. This caused the entire hall, save for the now confused Slytherins, to erupt into loud whispers that were hardly even whispers to begin with. No one bothered pretending, every single soul in the hall was confused beyond words and wanted answers immediately.

"Viktor–?" Hermione started, only to be shushed by the twins, whom she just noticed were huddling close to her and Viktor with wide, excited grins plastered on their faces. She blanched. "Oh…oh _no!"_

"Oh yes indeed, fairest mate of all!" said Fred.

"Ladies and gentlemen please keep your hands and feet and brooms to yourselves at all times," said George, surprisingly formal.

"And without further ado, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes proudly presents," said Fred to Viktor, pausing with a dramatic flair, "the greatest investment you'll ever make."

It was perhaps the shortest, most chaotic prank she's ever seen in motion. The Slytherins had barely started before everything edible came to life around them. The things that didn't explode or house insects set free upon unfortunate girls that went for the sweets first made the students that dared take a few bites very, very sick. Something that looked like a fruitcake with bananas for arms had removed itself from its plate and started throwing tarts and pumpkin juice at its closest victims, which happened to be Crabbe and Goyle. The table was reduced to screaming, thrashing, broken plates and discarded cutlery. Oddly enough none of the mess reached the Ravenclaw table that was the closest, however the Ravenclaws along with the Beauxbatons students were still quick to abandon their seats. It would've gone on forever had Dumbledore not stood on his feet and ceased the varying cuisine's assault on his students with a wave of his wand.

Pin-drop silence, save for the continued vomiting and crying and swearing of some of the Slytherins. And then, just as suddenly, laughter broke out from all around the hall and nearly shook the castle.

To say that Karkaroff was mortified would've been an understatement.

"You…you… _you!"_ he wheezed, barely able to breathe through his rage, staring at his students and at Viktor in particular with a look that suggested murder.

It looked like Dumbledore was trying to calm him but Hermione couldn't hear him over the laughter, and he'd fail anyway even if he were to physically restrain him for Karkaroff was past reason. He was already storming towards his students like an angry grey cloud, and at some point he had lost his grip on the English language and started shouting in Bulgarian.

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. The last time Karkaroff was mildly upset with Viktor he had forced him to run laps throughout the breakfast hour. Whatever he's going to do to him now, he won't be holding back. She looked at his peers, suddenly scared that they were furious with Viktor for making them partake in the prank and then getting them in trouble, but to her surprise and relief they didn't look like they cared at all. If anything they looked rather proud of their achievement.

"So," began Fred, "shall we wrap this up before your headmaster locks you away for all eternity?"

Viktor wasn't paying any mind to Karkaroff. He was still looking thoughtfully at the mess their prank left behind and at the Slytherins that were being hurriedly ushered out by a notably furious Snape and a more shocked McGonagall, no doubt to be taken to the infirmary or the dungeons.

"It was funny," he finally decided, looking away from the mess and towards Fred, "but not…how you say?" he frowned, mumbling under his breath before finally coming to the word he was looking for. "Ah, yes, _innovation_!"

He looked at Hermione as he said it, beaming with pride even though he hadn't exactly used the word correctly, and under normal circumstances she might've praised him but at the moment all she wanted to do was throttle him for taking part in this prank and landing himself in even more trouble than necessary.

"Oh come on now, we gave you the best we could without getting expelled!" said George, gesturing at the still laughing hall. "I mean, just look at that! And _that!"_ he pointed at Karkaroff, still screaming in Bulgarian at the top of his lungs and hauling his students off their chairs, one burly boy at a time. " _That_ must be worth something!"

Viktor didn't look very convinced.

Fred placed his hands on Hermione's shoulders and turned her to face Viktor. "What about this, then? Surely that's worth something to you?"

One of the reasons Hermione hadn't scolded anyone yet was because she was trying _so hard_ to hold herself back. Normally she wouldn't find such pranks funny, but she couldn't help it. Malfoy and Pansy had been one of the people that hurt Viktor the night before and seeing them screaming and getting pelted with desert was the most satisfying thing in the world. And apparently Viktor saw it on her face before she gave up the pretence and started giggling uncontrollably.

He smiled, still looking at her. "Ok. I accept."

The twins jumped off their seats to high-five each other over Viktor and Hermione's heads.

"We will talk more later," said Viktor, downing the last bit of his coffee. He snapped his fingers and trays full of freshly baked cookies, brownies, and scones with jam and cream appeared on their table.

"Viktor, what just happened?" she demanded, or rather she tried to make herself sound cross and demanding and failed just like the way she had tried and failed to contain her laughter.

"Later," he promised, grabbing a scone and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "I have to see what Karkaroff wants first."

Thankfully he left before his headmaster could reach him and haul him off like he did with the rest. Hermione quickly stopped touching the spot he kissed when she noticed Ginny staring hard at her.

She cornered Hermione in the common room. She stood blocking the stairway towards the girls' dormitories with her hands on her hips. "Spill." She demanded.

Hermione complied, managing to keep her impatience in check by reminding herself that the last time her friends saw her she was a complete mess and that their coercion was coming from a place of genuine concern. Once again she felt compelled to keep the almost-kiss from their knowledge and did just that, at least for the time being, or until Ginny stops looking at her the way Ron occasionally does whenever the subject of Viktor and Veela mating is broached.

"…and then when I got back Lavender and Parvati were still asleep of course, but I couldn't really, so I started reading Scamander's book and the next thing I know it's morning," Hermione said, fishing the book in question out of her bag and offering it to Ginny.

Ginny wouldn't even look at the book. She went from resembling Ron to Molly. Hermione wasn't quite sure if she should be happy or worried. Ginny briefly looked at Harry, who was standing by the unlit fireplace, then back at Hermione. "And you don't think there's anything… _strange_ with all that's happened since?"

"I'd like to think that Daniela's letter was more than _just_ strange."

"Daniela's letter is the only thing that makes sense, Hermione."

"What are you saying?" she anxiously looked between her friends. "You're not… you're not saying you _believe_ that woman, are you?" she scoffed before Ginny could answer. "It's ridiculous! You've been around Viktor. You know what he's like."

"Except we don't really know him and neither do you," said Ginny, her words easily cutting through Hermione's logic. "I'm not saying I believe this Daniela woman completely, but I do believe my brother when he said that he saw something."

"Oh for goodness' sake–!" she started.

Harry cut her off. "She's right, Hermione. Ron doesn't lie about these things, and you know him better than you know Viktor."

She pressed her lips into a thin line and dug her nails into her palms, now upset with the both of them but mostly with Harry for being right. She may not believe that Viktor is as vicious as everyone thinks, but she also knows Ron very well and she knows what he looks like when he's _truly_ scared.

"What we're trying to say is," said Ginny after a pause, "maybe there's _some_ truth to Daniela's letter."

They're inclined to believe the letter because they haven't seen him, she suddenly realised. They haven't seen him look so ashamed and vulnerable. They didn't know exactly how much he regrets losing control, or how underneath all that obsessive doting he's extremely considerate of her needs.

"Look, you haven't exactly been yourself this morning and we're worried," started Harry. "I tried talking to Ron last night after we all went to bed to make sense of what exactly happened between him and Viktor."

"And?" Hermione prompted after a pause. "What did Ron say?"

"He didn't say anything," Ginny answered instead. "He was so shaken up by what happened he couldn't speak even to Harry, or sleep for that matter. I don't know how he managed to get a hold of himself this morning but he did to face Viktor and _you_ –" she suddenly stopped, taking deep breaths to prevent herself from fully lashing out, then continued in a low voice, "you just sat there and let him take it."

"There was nothing to _take,_ Viktor barely said two words to Ron!"

"Oh bloody hell, will you stop defending him already!"

"I will not!" Hermione's voice rose to a shrill but she stopped caring. She was becoming too upset and impatient with her friends and their stubbornness. They were starting to sound like everyone else and she couldn't stand it, not from them, and not towards Viktor. "I will defend him against _anyone_ as long as he's innocent."

Ginny snorted. "And what exactly makes you believe that he's entirely innocent, the fact that you're his supposed _mate?_ "

It stung on a deeper level than she'll ever admit, but Hermione pushed it down. "Right, because surely _you_ are not biased."

"Even Harry agrees with me! He almost attacked Ron and you cannot deny that without looking stupid because the whole bloody school saw it!"

"I'm not denying anything nor am I saying I'm happy with what happened! It all happened so fast and Ron was creating a scene. Viktor misunderstood. He thought Ron was hurting me. He was only trying to defend me but it got out of hand."

"Rubbish! He would've known that Ron wouldn't hurt you if he's so bloody attuned to your feelings. Stop making excuses for him and face facts, Hermione. He wanted to hurt Ron because he sees him as a threat."

Hermione felt a cold chill seep into her bones. _A love-struck yet rejected, agitated male Veela's first instinct to competition is to eliminate it._ That's what the book had said, or the part George read, but surely Viktor wouldn't…?

The book is about full Veela, Hermione reasoned, and from what she's read so far a good portion of it relied on a collection of myths and legends and stories passed down from past generations. There was even a disclaimer at the beginning stating that the part of the book concerning male Veela is mostly comprised of theories rather than solid facts and should be treated as such, as there hasn't ever been a recorded sighting of a full-blooded male Veela and that studies on current male part-Veela is fairly new and on-going. It's possible that that piece of information is either false or applies only to full male Veela.

And Viktor simply wouldn't kill anyone, _ever_ , because he may be persistent and infuriating and dense when it suits him but he is not a killer. No amount of rejections will make him one. He wouldn't even get agitated, he'd just grin and try harder.

Hermione didn't get the chance to voice those thoughts. Lavender crawled through the portrait hole and walked towards them with an uncharacteristically serious look on her face, for once not caring to know the cause of the shouting or of the tension in the room. She as holding a newspaper in her hands.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I really think you should see this," she said, giving Hermione the newspaper.

Hermione didn't need to search for the answer. It was on the front page. _Durmstrang Veela Reveals Dark Side, Attacks Student_ by Rita Skeeter.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Hi! I'm alive. Mostly. Real life has been... peachy... but I live. Things are better than they were before, but the writing process is still slow. None of my stories are abandoned. I just need to find the time to actually update them. Also as you can probably tell from this chapter I am a little rusty (so sorry!) but on the other hand I am beyond grateful for all you beautiful people still reading and supporting this story whilst not knowing whether or not its abandoned! I know it happens a lot on this site. Writers say their stories are not abandoned but then something happens that forces their hands completely off this site and you're left wondering if there will ever be an end but rest assured that if that ever happens here there will be a note posted informing all my readers that the story is discontinued, but until then I'm here to stay!**

 **I cannot apologise enough for the delay, or thank you enough for the continued support, but I do hope that this long-ish chapter makes up for it :D**

* * *

 _It appears that Durmstrang Institute will make exceptions for half-blood wizards with violent tendencies, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Durmstrang's very own champion and Veela Viktor Krum displayed such inclinations last night when he assaulted a student at the height of the Yule Ball festivities._

 _The victim, Ronald Weasley, who also happens to be close friends with Hogwart's fourth champion Harry Potter, had barely escaped the encounter unscathed. He had bravely put himself between his date for the evening, Hermione Granger, and Krum when he spotted the champion trying to intimidate her into spending the evening with him. Krum was so overcome with jealousy he threatened to stab Weasley with a sharp piece of glass that he obtained by breaking a cup of Butterbeer from the refreshments' table._

 _"_ _I really thought he was going to kill him," said one seventh-year student, distraught. "I looked up to Krum my whole life. Always wanted to meet him. Always wanted to be like him."_

 _Full male Veela have gone extinct thousands of years ago so very little is known about them. Current male half-Veela, on the other hand, are said to be rather unpredictable._

 _"_ _This has nothing to do with this Veela temperament nonsense!" Beauxbatons Academy of Magic's Headmistress Madam Maxim said. "It's the school, the boys there they always behave like brutes with each other! They obviously did not teach them how to behave around ladies!"_

 _It's important to note that Madam Maxime's own champion, Fleur Delacour, is half Veela._

 _Pansy Parkinson, a lovely fourth year student who was at the heart of the scene, had an interesting theory._

 _"_ _He's definitely full Veela," she said, "and Granger's not as innocent as she looks. She's made him her lap dog, and not a cute one but a mean rabid beast she sets on people she doesn't particularly like. I'm guessing Weasley confronted her about it and she got upset and set Krum loose."_

 _Her date, Draco Malfoy, had this to say: "Wands belong to wizards. He shouldn't even be in school."_

 _If proven true Mr. Krum would face severe legal repercussions. His stolen wand would be confiscated and destroyed, he would get immediately expelled from Durmstrang Institute, lose his spot as Seeker for the National Bulgarian Quidditch team, and face a minimum of twenty years in Azkaban for identity theft, fraud, and for endangering the life of one minor and sexually harassing another. Durmstrang and Hogwarts headmasters, disgraced wizard Igor Karkaroff and his equally controversial ally Albus Dumbledore, will face similar charges for failing to protect their students and faculty._

"Hermione, stop," said Harry, shadowing her as she paced, trying to reach around her and slip the newspaper from her hands.

"He's read it," she said, going through the article again for the hundredth time. "He must've, at breakfast. I know he did."

"Dumbledore took care of it," said Ginny, standing with her arms crossed by the fireplace, her hazel eyes following the duo's every step. "You heard him. He doesn't believe a single word of it, and he even banned Skeeter from Hogwarts. She's no longer covering the Triwizard Tournament and tomorrow morning _The Prophet_ is issuing an official apology."

Just hours before Hermione had run to Dumbledore's office with the newspaper rolled and clutched in her hand. She was more inclined to find Viktor first, but she had to get things sorted with Dumbledore. She couldn't go to Viktor without any answers or words of comfort.

Karkaroff was already there by the time she reached the entrance. He was on the verge of blasting the gargoyle off it's perch, and she's certain he would've done so in his rage had it not moved aside to give Hermione passage, stating that the headmaster was expecting her.

"Professor, she's lying!"

"I demand to have that woman's writing privileges revoked this instant!"

They both said at once, bursting through the door and nearly breaking it off its hinges.

Hermione didn't care to let Karkaroff say his piece. She stepped towards Dumbledore, who was calmly observing them from behind his desk. "None of this drivel is true, Professor, I swear! He wasn't harassing me!"

"A true gentleman!" Karkaroff jumped in, standing next to her and slamming his hands on the table, startling Fawkes on his perch and making the various small unidentifiable trinkets on the table rattle. "A model student! Never in my life as an educator, Albus, never in the history of Durmstrang Institute have I ever encountered such a refined and sophisticated prodigy!" Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak but Karkaroff wasn't finished. "And I will _not_ have his name besmirched by some cheap whore that can't even pass herself as a half-decent writer!"

"She really can't write!" Hermione agreed, throwing her hands in irritation and nearly backhanding Karkaroff in the process.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore started calmly, only to get immediately cut off by Karkaroff.

"If I see her again I will have her skinned alive, Albus, this I swear to you!"

"Igor," he said to Karkaroff, "old friend. Miss Granger. Please have a seat."

Hermione complied. Karkaroff remained standing.

"I have spoken to both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Krum this morning regarding the incident—separately, of course. They have given me their full cooperation and were both honest to a fault. I know this because their stories were a perfect match."

Hermione didn't know what to make of it. She was surprised that Viktor didn't tell her anything about his meeting with Dumbledore, but then again they barely had time to talk before the twins' prank landed him in trouble. Ginny's hostile attitude didn't help, either. And what had Ron said to Dumbledore, anyway? Hermione can't see him taking any responsibility for his own actions, not since the way he's behaved at breakfast.

"I have come to the conclusion that the incident was a result of a terrible misunderstanding from both parties," he continued, smiling a little at Hermione, "both have acted out of great love for Miss Granger and I for one cannot find it in my heart to punish children for expressing such powerful emotions."

"And what of that woman, Albus?" said Karkaroff impatiently. "Do I have to get the Bulgarian embassy involved or can I trust the local authorities to do their jobs for once?"

Dumbledore had already taken care of everything. He told them that _The Daily Prophet,_ in great fear of retribution in the form of Viktor's very expensive lawyers, or the relation nightmare the story is threatening to cause between the wizarding world and Veela community, had put Skeeter on temporary suspension. They have also agreed to have another journalist cover the tournament in her place, one that Dumbledore gets to choose, and they did not try to sway Dumbledore when he banned her from entering the castle grounds. The paper will also immediately start working on an official apology for the entire front page, to be published the very next morning, as well as any form of compensation Karkaroff demands.

And Karkaroff had _many_ demands, so many that Hermione feared that _The_ _Prophet_ would change their minds and take their chances with Viktor's lawyers instead, but thankfully they agreed to each and every demand. All was settled. It was more than she could accomplish on her own, but still she wasn't satisfied because no amount of apologies or compensations will make up for the torment Viktor will have to go through first and there's absolutely _nothing_ she can do about it, nothing but obsesses over the same article for hours hoping to find something incriminating enough to get Skeeter permanently suspended from every single publication in the world. Hermione never wants her to lift another quill again.

"She wasn't even there!" she wailed. Harry saw the opportunity and quickly snatched the paper from her hands, but she didn't seem to care at this point. "I didn't see her anywhere, how could she have known?"

"You don't think that Malfoy had anything to do with it?" asked Harry, always quick to point the finger at his second biggest adversary, the first being Voldemort and the third most likely the Dursleys.

Hermione thought about it. He had given a statement on the incident against Viktor, as did Pansy, but still she couldn't see it coming from him. "No, I don't think so. Just the day before he was stuck to Viktor's side on the Slytherin table."

Harry wasn't easily convinced. "But he'd do it to get to you, and me."

"Not everything is about you, Harry," she said, and then cringed. "I didn't mean–"

"It's alright," he reassured her.

"Except it's not alright and it _is_ about Harry!" Ginny jumped in. "Or have you forgotten? Someone placed Harry's name in the Goblet to get him killed and all you could think about is what people might say about Krum?"

"It's not about what they'd say!" Hermione said hotly. "It's the things that will happen to him because of the things they'd say!"

She snorted. "Oh yes, because obviously he's the only celebrity to get bad press every once in a while."

"This- this isn't just bad press, Ginny, it's his _life!"_ she was starting to shout but she didn't care about the attention she was drawing to herself. She couldn't believe this was coming from Ginny of all people. "The allegations Skeeter has hinted at will not only incriminate him but every bloody Veela out there! Or have you forgotten about the prejudice against anything remotely different that strives in the wizarding world?"

Ginny flushed, either from embarrassment or anger or both. "As the daughter of traitors I know bloody damn well how the system works against all who are different here."

"Well as a _Mudblood_ I happen to know it better," she spat the word with the same amount of venom it carried the first time it was thrown at her, and she knew from the shocked expression on both Ginny and Harry's faces that it had stung them just the way she wanted it to. She turned to Harry. "I am by no means putting my problems before your life-threatening ones, but Viktor needs me right now. You could help the both of us by actually making an attempt at figuring out that bloody egg."

She left them with that. She had a lot more to say especially to Ginny, for she had spend all of last night reading Scamander's book and then re-reading some parts up until she finally gave in and passed out on her breakfast, but she had more pressing matters to look into and not enough time.

 _If they cared to know they'd read the book themselves,_ she thought angrily. She had been so excited to tell them about the things she's read so far, about how Scamander was teaching her things she's never come across in any other book regarding Veela (and she's read _many_ since the World Cup) and how it had gotten her so much closer to understanding Viktor, but then George read that mating bit and Ginny got judgmental and Harry cautious and who knows what Ron was thinking or feeling about this whole ordeal, but Hermione has had _enough_.

Karkaroff's choice of punishment this time was manual labor, and once again Hermione was worried that Viktor's classmates will hold this punishment over his head in the future, but they didn't seem to care at all. If anything cutting grass, mopping floors, hand-washing sails, polishing wood, and even diving underwater to remove the barnacles from the ship looked like a regular occurrence for them. Viktor was the only one who wasn't working on the ship, but he was sitting close by polishing a mountain of old and new school brooms.

It was an odd sort of punishment, she thought, and if anything it probably wasn't meant to be a punishment in the first place. Unlike his sullen-faced classmates that were just trying to get through their chores as quickly as possible, Viktor was taking his time with each individual broom, carefully going over all the necessary steps and even going as far as taking out his own very expensive-looking kit to clip, shave, and add a fresh layer of paint on the older brooms.

Hermione was against any form of favoritism, especially the type Karkaroff very obviously displays around Viktor, but this time she's grateful for it. And she's grateful for Karkaroff's presence in Viktor's life, because surely it can't be easy (or possible) for a half-blood wizard to be enrolled in Durmstrang in the first place.

He was so focused on the broom on his lap that he hadn't noticed her approaching until she cleared her throat. He put aside the half-finished broom and stood on his feat, beaming at the mere sight and presence of her, and her heart broke for him all over again.

"Why didn't you tell me about the article?" she asked. She hadn't meant to bring it up. She had only planned to check on him, but with everything going on and the way he was taking it just didn't sit very well with her and she couldn't wait for answers.

"It's not important."

"Viktor, I saw you going over it several times this morning," she said softly. His smile faltered. She took his hand and pulled him to sit on the ground with her. "It's alright. You can talk to me. I saw Dumbledore this morning and he took care of everything."

"I know. He is telling me this morning. Karkaroff lied, he is not happy. He wants me to write to my lawyers."

"Are you going to?"

He shrugged.

She hesitated. "I- I think you should."

He raised a brow at that. "You want me to sue your school?"

She blinked, shocked. "Why would you sue Hogwarts? Rita wrote that article! It's _The Prophet_ you should be suing!"

"Does not matter. Hogwarts will also be in trouble. Dumbledore signed a contract when he said yes to hosting Triwizard Tournament."

"Yes, I'm aware, but that was to ensure that the game's rules are implemented and followed through and to also keep the visiting schools safe and well taken care of! He had no hand with what happened with you or Ron or-"

"Skeeter has too much _unofficial_ information," he cut her off, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder to still her. "Meaning security was bad. As headmaster of Hogwarts Dumbledore is responsible, so if I sue there will be an investigation and _The Prophet_ will use Dumbledore to take attention away from themselves." She opened her mouth to protest but he quickly added: "Skeeter was not there but she know I broke Butterbeer glass."

He didn't need to clarify. Hermione understood. Even if the investigations were strictly classified Skeeter would find a way to extract any information she could use to get her suspension lifted, just like she did with the Butterbeer glass, and knowing her she'd use a small detail like that and spin it into a monstrous fictional retelling of the events that _The Prophet_ will cling to in hopes of clearing their name.

Whatever unofficial information she found and withheld was probably the reason she was only temporarily suspended. That made Hermione even more determined to catch her.

"I know Dumbledore is important to Potter," he said, his hand gently squeezing hers before retracting to retrieve the previously abandoned broom he was polishing. "Potter is your friend, also important. You are important to me. If I sue Potter will be hurt and you will be sad, so I will not sue."

He was letting it all go but she wasn't going to allow it. "So that's it, Skeeter wins?"

"Skeeter is not important."

"She's most definitely not, but we still have to stop her!"

"We did. She is not writing for _The Prophet_ anymore."

" _Just_ that one publication, and it's _temporary._ She could easily submit her writings to other publications and she's got quite a large readership, so really why wouldn't they publish it?"

"Let them publish it. It is just gossip."

" _Hurtful_ gossip, Viktor!" She sighed, putting her hand on the broom's handle to interrupt him and make him look at her. "Assault and sexual harassment allegations are not what I'd call _just gossip._ These are things that could damage your career."

It came as quickly as it left, but she saw it clear as day: fear and uncertainty. She was glad, at least, that he told her the truth and didn't try to cover it with the usual carefree façade.

"If I don't sue they will investigate me," he said. "It is suspicious, no, to not do anything against strong accusations?"

"Who are _they,_ the Confederation of Wizards' Quidditch Community?"

"There is a zero-tolerance policy against sexual harassment, which is good, but there is also another thing." He hesitated, considering her reaction for a moment before deciding to tell her. "Only wizards are allowed to play Quidditch."

"But- but you _are_ a wizard!"

"I am more Veela," he corrected her.

She hated herself for quoting Draco on the matter. "Wands belong to wizards."

He scoffed. "Everyone except for muggles can use wands, Hermione. They are just not allowed to."

"Still–!"

"There will be tests that will tell them if I am more wizard or more Veela. It is not new. They were used for many cases, mostly with half-blooded orphans," he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than her. "I don't know how many, or when, but I have to pass them."

She felt like she really didn't need to hear the answer, but she asked anyway: "and if you don't?"

He averted his eyes and started polishing the broom's handle again, this time more vigorously, either to avoid looking at her or to keep himself distracted. "If I fail I will be officially named Veela. I will be expelled from school, kicked out of the Bulgarian National Quidditch team, and I will lose my wand. The good news: they will not send me to Azkaban for this because I did not know."

At least he had spoken to his lawyers about _something._

Hermione was plagued by too many conflicted emotions. She didn't know what to do. On the one hand if Viktor doesn't sue he will lose everything, but on the other if Viktor files a lawsuit Dumbledore will very likely get scapegoated and while Hermione doesn't for a moment doubt his ability to get himself out of any situation unscathed, Ginny was still right about one thing. Harry was not safe. The only reason he's still alive is due to Dumbledore's presence in the castle. If he is removed for any reason Harry will be in even more danger.

Still she couldn't just let it go. She had to do _something._

She turned to Viktor, too focused on the broom he was nearly finished with to bother with the silence. Once again she felt a painful twinge at the sight. She really didn't want to leave him.

"Viktor, can I ask for a favor?"

He looked up at her, smiling in affirmation.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but can you… stay out of trouble for the foreseeable future?"

He did take it the wrong way. "Who is saying to you I am trouble? I will beat them!"

She scrambled over the scattered chips of wood and equipment and pulled him back down just as he was about to stand and head towards his nonexistent rival with the broom still clutched in his hand. "Viktor, you cannot beat everyone that says bad things about you!"

"If they are saying it to you I will beat them and teach them a lesson!" He vowed. He then tried to pull away but she tightened her grip on his robes and pulled hard, making him almost fall flat on his back.

"No one said anything to me!" she snapped, and then took a deep breath to calm herself. "What I _meant_ was no more pranks with the twins, but now I suppose I'll have to add that you don't fight anyone as well no matter what they do or say to you. Do you think you can do that for me while I do some research in the library that could take me a long time to get through?"

He huffed. "Of course I can. I can do anything for you. You know why? Because I am amazing!"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Can you just promise to stay out of trouble while I work?"

He thought about it. "Ok, but only if you make two promise for me first."

She blushed. "For the last time, Viktor, we are _not_ going to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop _alone,_ or with company for that matter."

He scowled. "Fine. Then you only make one promise for me."

She folded her arms over her chest, looking down at him haughtily. "I will make it after I hear it."

He looked like he was going to argue with her, but then seemed to change his mind. His expression suddenly changed and it startled her. It looked too similar to the face he made when she found him after the Yule Ball in the kitchen, cowering from her in deep shame and anxiety. "You don't believe everything you hear about me, ok? If you are not sure, ask me. I will never lie to you."

She remembered Daniela's letter. She briefly wondered if she should tell him about it, but then promptly decided against it. The Veela didn't sound like she was too fond of him and Hermione had no idea if Viktor was even aware of her existence, but he would certainly be hurt if he knew that Hermione went behind his back to his potential nemesis rather than look into the material he provided first. The very last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

Pushing her guilt aside, she smiled at him. "I promise."


End file.
